


paper boats

by Knightblazer



Series: together again (the Detroitsistor verse) [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Character Development, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Feelings, Flashbacks, Hank Anderson is Bad at Feelings, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Sex, Introspection, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Game(s), Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Zen Garden (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-15 22:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 50,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17537936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightblazer/pseuds/Knightblazer
Summary: He should have told him. Should have told Connor how he truly felt, instead of running away like the coward he always ends up being. Could Hank have avoided this if he had not shunned the android away that night? If he hadn’t, perhaps, then maybe… just maybe...Too many questions, almost zero answers. Too manywhat ifsrunning through his mind, and each one only serving to increase the guilt that weighs down his chest. If only he wasn’t a coward. If only he didn’t shun Connor away. If only he had tried to reach out to him.If only, if only, if only.He tries to put it aside, but it's the only thing that echoes in his head as Markus’ voice comes through the other end of the line, informing Hank of exactly where Connor has been in the time since his disappearance.”Lieutenant Anderson, please come by to Elijah Kamski’s place. We are… Connor is here, and he needs your help.”[or: Hank's side of the story inwe all become]





	1. another side, another story

**Author's Note:**

> **Everyone:** well its been long enough since we heard about transistor, surely taso must be done with this verse--  
>  **me, bursting in:** DID I HEAR 'MORE TRANSISTOR FIC' WELL GUESS WHAT MY FRIENDS YOU HAVE IT
> 
> So... yeah. For the Hankcon 2018 Big Bang I decided to undertake a challenge to myself to see if I could write a story in a different perspective and see if I could still make it as engaging as the original story. And so I thought why not try it with the Transistor AU fic? So now here I am, with this fic... that totally got way longer than it should have been lmao. It was certainly an interesting experience, and overall I had a lot of fun writing this too! Maybe I'll try this again on another of my fics... 
> 
> Anyway since this _is_ a Big Bang there is also le art--and god, what great art I have been blessed with. Please do give your love to the incredible [**def**](http://defenestratin.tumblr.com/) and the wonderful [**pillow**](http://chezpillow.tumblr.com/) for taking the time and effort to illustrate this little story of mine. They have both made amazing pieces of art and I am very grateful for the work that they have both put here. Both of you rock. <3 Their art will be scattered through this fic, with links to their posts! Or you can also click [here](https://twitter.com/defensetrain/status/1090095434121408513) for def or [here](https://chezpillow.tumblr.com/post/182388835036/art-for-the-wonderful-paper-boats-by-tasogareika) for pillow to see their own posts as well hahaha. 
> 
> More thanks as well to **Jan** , who I can always depend for help and advice when I need it, **Harper** (aka [ProneToRelapse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProneToRelapse/pseuds/ProneToRelapse)) for taking the time to beta this monster for me, and finally **Mozz** for arranging this whole fun event and allowed me to finally crawl out of my rock in the corner of this fandom lmao. I don't think any of this would be here right now if it wasn't for this, so thank you to everyone here. 
> 
> On a final note, while reading _we all become_ isn't strictly required to proceed with reading this fic, knowledge of that fic will greatly enhance the experience in reading this particular fic. So feel free to check out (or reread it for a refresher) _we all become_ here first before reading this one!
> 
> So! Enough babbling and all that. Hope you all enjoy this fic, along with all the other great stories from all the other amazing writers that participated in this event. :3

  
  
  
By the time Hank gets the voicemail on his mobile, a whole week has passed since Connor’s disappearance.

It’s not as if Hank is actively trying to keep count on the time, but he simply can’t help it. Not when Connor has slid so effortlessly into his life, like a puzzle piece that just _fit_ among the jumble of everything else. Almost four months have passed since the androids managed to win their freedom—almost four months since he and Connor reunited on that cold winter morning in front of Chicken Feed, and almost four months since Connor had started to stay in his house.

Not so long ago this is the kind of life Hank would have never expected himself to have. He would have never thought he’d have an android partner, let alone one who is also his _housemate_. But life always throws these kind of curve balls at you; Hank supposes he’s just glad that _this_ particular one ended up being not as bad as he had originally thought.

That is, up until Connor decided to up and vanish without warning.

Hank doesn’t want to dwell on it, but part of him can’t help but wonder if his disappearance has anything to do with the conversation they had the night before. When Connor had all but bared his soul so easily, so helplessly, that all Hank could do was draw away because everything that Connor showed had been too much for him. 

_(“Connor, you know you don’t have to go out of the way for my sake.”_

_“I don’t have to. But I _want_ to.”)_

And god, wasn’t that the kicker.

He doesn’t want to assume the worst—he knows Connor can more than take care of himself if he does end up in trouble—but it doesn’t stop the thoughts in his head. Anti-android sentiment is still prevalent in the country, and especially so in Detroit. He also knows how easy it would be for any human (and particularly Cyberlife themselves) to be able to get their hands on some anti-android equipment or something along those lines; many of the cases he worked with Connor since the revolution involved a fair share of those. If somebody managed to get ahold of something strong enough to even take out _Connor_... 

Hank can’t even bring himself to consider it. The mental image he has in his head is bad enough as it is. And if the conversation he had with Connor the other night might well be the last one he ever has with the android… Hank doubts he could ever forgive himself. 

He should have told him. Should have told Connor how he truly felt, instead of running away like the coward he always ends up being. Could Hank have avoided this if he had not shunned the android away that night? If he hadn’t, perhaps, then maybe… just maybe...

Too many questions, almost zero answers. Too many _what ifs_ running through his mind, and each one only serving to increase the guilt that weighs down his chest. If only he wasn’t a coward. If only he didn’t shun Connor away. If only he had tried to reach out to him.

If only, if only, if only.

He tries to put it aside, but it's the only thing that echoes in his head as Markus’ voice comes through the other end of the line, informing Hank of exactly where Connor has been in the time since his disappearance.

_”Lieutenant Anderson, please come by to Elijah Kamski’s place. We are… Connor is here, and he needs your help.”_

Which leads him to where he is now—now, where he’s seated on possibly one of fanciest armchairs he’s ever seen in his whole life. The fact that it's apparently a spare that Kamski bought out just for him to use just kind of needles at him even more. As if the whole idea of having to get the assistance from the likes of Kamski wasn’t enough to grate on his nerves as it is. He still remembers full well what happened the _last_ time he had come here for that.

The last time, with Connor, back during the revolution. Connor who had still been struggling to find himself then, standing at a crossroads between what he should be and what he _could_ be. 

It’s a saying that life’s crossroads are about as simple as the pull of a trigger. Hank continues to be glad that Connor had chosen not to do so that day. It had been the moment he knew for sure—knew that Connor was actually _alive_ , that he could be more than the purpose he was meant to fulfill. 

And hell can freeze over before he’ll let Cyberlife take that away from him.

“You’re absolutely certain this is gonna work?”

Kamski gives him a look over the monitors that surround him. “I wouldn’t be offering this if I were not a hundred percent certain, Lieutenant Anderson.” If it were possible it almost seems like Kamski is _hurt_ at the implication, but Hank is pretty certain that’s impossible. Kamski has way too much of an ego to be hurt over one question from him.

A hand touches his shoulder then, and Hank turns his gaze around to meet Markus’ own. The leader of Jericho nods at him, giving what Hank can best assume to be a reassuring smile. “I know you have your differences with Kamski, but he has just as much of a stake in this as we do. I don’t think he’ll be trying anything here.”

The both of them hear a snort from Kamski’s direction. “I don’t know why the world likes to think of me as some mustache-twirling villain. I’m hardly _that_ melodramatic.”

Hank makes a face, not quite sure where to even begin with that comment. Markus squeezes his shoulder in silent consolation. “Are we ready?” the android eventually asks after a few more moments of silence, turning the topic of their conversation to something more relevant.

“Just about.” Kamski’s gaze is back to his monitors, and the sound of rapid typing fills in the silence of the room. “Markus, make sure the device is properly strapped onto our dear Lieutenant, if you would.”

Markus doesn’t respond verbally, but Hank feels him pull his hand away from his shoulder, and the device on his head is being nudged around ever so slightly as Markus readjusts it on him. It all only takes a few seconds, and then Markus steps away from him, turning to look at Kamski. “That’s as much as I can do.”

A hum. “Good enough.” More rapid typing, which eventually ends with a flourish of enter keys. “This is about as much as I can do as well,” Kamski says as he straightens up from the table he had bent himself over to work. “The rest will have to depend on what happens.”

He walks over to where Hank is sitting and comes to a stop in front of him. His cool gaze flicks up to give Hank a once over, and Hank looks back, jaw clenched and his body tense. Part of him still isn’t wholly inclined to trust Kamski about all of this, but he knows there is no other choice. Markus wouldn’t have come to Kamski in the first place if he had any other choice, and Hank would go through heaven and hell to save Connor. It’s all he can do now.

Hank turns his gaze away from Kamski in order to look at Connor instead. Connor who now lies all too silently in Kamski’s special stasis pod, with time being the only barrier to whatever it is that Cyberlife has done to him. Connor, who’s been fighting a battle of his own since the revolution without telling anybody. Connor, who would rather sacrifice himself than ask for help, and fuck if that isn’t something Hank can relate to all too easily.

But Connor isn’t alone anymore. Even if every other android, any other human would forsake him, Hank could never do that. Not in a million years. He’ll make sure that Connor will never be alone again—not while he’s around.

A tap on the device he has on his head draws Hank back to the present. Hank glances up to see Kamski looking at him with a strangely serious expression. “Ready, Lieutenant?” he asks.

“Doesn’t matter,” Hank responds as he turns his gaze back down to Connor. “I’m not the one who’s running out of time.” Kamski had said it himself—how it was only a matter of time before Cyberlife get through to Connor fully, and Hank doesn’t want to think about what might happen to Connor then. There’s too many things that _could_ happen and none of them end well in his head. The only way to prevent that is to make sure that it _doesn’t_ happen.

Kamski lets out an amused huff. “Then I wish you nothing but the best of luck,” he says, and there’s the _click_ of a switch somewhere outside of his peripheral vision. In the very next moment Hank feels himself struck with a sudden wave of dizziness that forces him to lean back on the couch, head lolling over the top of the cushion. Hank closes his eyes and tries to focus but it's incredibly hard, his thoughts somehow so very far away from him. 

“What’s…” he attempts to ask, but even his mouth is failing him; all he hears is from himself is something slurred and unintelligible. Everything about this feels like he’s going through one massive drug trip, and he swears if this is just some great plot for Kamski he’s going to—

Above him, he hears Markus speak. “All brain waves in sync. You can start the system whenever.”

“Here we go, then. Chloe, execute the Transistor program.”

_Transistor?_

Hank barely gets a chance to ask before the dizziness gets too much and he finds himself fading into unconsciousness before he even realizes it happening.

 

* * *

 

Hank wakes up to the sight of Connor’s sleeping face above him.

Wait.

Above?

Without thinking too much about it Hank starts to reach up and see if this _really_ is Connor—only to discover that he doesn’t have any arms to move at all, much less a hand. In fact, he quickly comes to realize, he doesn’t have any limbs to move with whatsoever. 

What the fuck is going on?

Hank attempts to look around but even doing that feels vastly different, especially considering he has no head to turn with in the first place. He knows he’s _here_ but without anything physical to ground him all of this feels like a really extreme out of body experience. Like he’s tipsy and right on the edge of blacking out except that his mind is clearer than he’s ever remembered it being, so definitely not drunk. He’s been there enough times to know when he is.

It takes a bit, but eventually he gets the hang of looking. It’s still really fucking weird, but at least he’s knows _something_ now, and considering how five minutes ago he pretty much had nothing to go on Hank is more than willing to consider this progress.

Still, he isn’t exactly going to get anywhere with just that little bit of progress. Hank looks back up to stare at Connor, still asleep and his face still hovered over him. He still has no real idea where he is and what all of this means, but at the very least Connor is here with him. That, at least, is a relief in and of itself.

“Connor,” he calls out, and the android responds. Connor moves from slouching to sitting up ramrod straight, putting his face away from Hank’s sight as he raises his head and stares forward at nothing in particular. A notification suddenly pops up in front of his vision like they do on his phone, and it takes a second for Hank to shift his gaze from Connor to this newly arrived thing.

`[INTERFACE CONNECTED  
LINK TO TRANSISTOR ESTABLISHED]`

That certainly explained jack shit to him. Hank tries to recall the things that Kamski had told him, but honestly most of it contained so much technical jargon that it all flew over his head. Besides, his mind had been a lot more occupied by the sight of Connor in that stasis pod, the way he looked like he was sleeping even though Hank knew otherwise. Had discovered otherwise. Now _knows_ otherwise.

Fuck if he didn’t remember the tech mumbo jumbo bullshit that Kamski told him. Hank’s always been more of a doer anyway. He’ll figure this shit out as they go along… wherever this place is. 

“Connor,” he says again, and once more the android reacts to his call. This time Hank feels… something. A distant stirring sensation that doesn’t quite belong to him, but yet he feels it anyway as if it could be a part of him. Synapses and neurons clicking together and taking shape, forming something tangible that he can feel surround him, like a presence. A connection. A bond.

Then, suddenly—an awakening. He simply _knows_ that Connor is awake now, and now can somehow see what he sees. And he sees, through the window, almost exactly how Detroit would have looked from his bedroom window.

  
(art by [chezpillow](https://chezpillow.tumblr.com/))

_What the hell?_ he thinks to himself, but it doesn’t stop that. Connor’s awareness spreads and so does Hank’s and he makes out now that they’re in his bedroom. Or rather, a perfect replica of his bedroom, constructed with nothing but the terabytes of data that Connor has in his big computer brain of his.

It’s all coming together for him now; as Connor wakes up Hank now can _see_ what lies under the surface. See this place for what it truly is: a digital reconstruction, created by the remaining fragments of Connor’s own internal data banks. No doubt a product of whatever machine that Kamski had put Connor in. Was this his way of trying to preserve Connor’s corrupting data—to let it build like this? Hank supposes he is the very last person who can understand that.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. He came here on a mission, and Hank isn’t going to let anything stop him. He’s failed Connor enough times as it is.

He turns his attention back to Connor, who’s still somewhat dazed; in the background Hank can sense his functions attempting to re-calibrate themselves, his coding working as if it's trying to pull itself back together after being broken apart. Hank would help if he could, but he’s far more afraid of accidentally damaging something instead. All he can do is ensure that Connor can maintain his focus long enough to put himself together. “ _Connor!_ ”

The lines piece themselves back together. In a way it's a bit like witnessing vase reforming from the shards it had broken into, and Hank tries not to dwell too long on that particular line of imagery. Connor is far more durable than some fine china. He’s a lot more resilient than that. Even now he’s still fighting, and it's up to Hank to give him the push that he needs.

Everything comes back together, or so it seems, but Connor still remains unresponsive to him. Hank doesn’t want to say that he’s concerned but he can’t lie about the worry that gnaws at him. In this state that he’s in, can he even do anything if Connor isn’t able to hear him?

He can’t assume yet. He needs to… He tries to reach out again, but without a physical form all of his attempts fall short.

“Goddammit,” he swears, unable to hold back his frustration. “Connor, can you hear me?”

Connor blinks, as if surprised. “I—yes.” There’s a strange quality to his voice; distant, as if passed through some sort of filter that makes him sound a lot more otherworldly than the human he seems to be.

No, Connor does not just seem human. Connor _is_ human, in all the ways that matter.

“Well, at least you’re here now. Hopefully we can both figure out what exactly we should be doing in this thing Kamski put us in and see how it leads to whatever’s up with you.” Hank can hardly claim himself to be knowledgeable about androids in any degree, but with whatever Connor has up in his head it shouldn’t be that much of an issue to figure it out. Kamski may be the creator of androids but all his inventions had to have a basis from _something_ ; as long as Connor had that, then it’d just be a matter of extrapolating—

He pauses in his train of thought when he hears no response from Connor. Concerned, he turns his attention back to the android, only to see that he has apparently become distracted by the bed that he’s sitting on. Hank’s bed—or rather, the digital recreation of it. The data of it must have come from Connor’s head, since Hank is petty certain there is no way he could ever recall the exact pattern of the sheets even though he’s had them for years.

Still, that is secondary to the way Connor frowns. Hank’s watched him long enough by now to know the subtle shifts in his expressions and what they mean. This particular one… it’s the one he makes when he’s confused by something—confused because he doesn’t know and doesn’t understand.

Something tense and wary coils around Hank’s figurative gut. He tries but fails to keep out the terseness in his voice when he snaps to Connor. “Don’t just space out like that, Christ. Are you even listening to me, Connor?”

Connor finally turns his gaze down to look at him at those words, and its then does Hank realize the exact nature of what he has become in this world—a sword. A fancy ass sword that looks more decorative than usable if he has anything to say about it. What kind of blade wanted to look like it was made of fucking _glass_?

The thought that he can break easily does not sit well with Hank. The fact that Connor somehow still hasn’t recognized him via voice is worrisome as well. As far as Hank can tell he sounds normal—but there’s no real way to be certain. 

He really should have paid more attention to the shit that Kamski had told him. 

At the very least it seems like Connor is just as lost about it as Hank is, though he suspects the reasons behind them are probably very different. Either way, Connor’s continued silence is a cause for concern. Hank can’t stop the worries that plague him if Connor keeps quiet like this. “Don’t go silent on me again, Connor, c’mon now.”

Connor tilts his head. “I apologize. I was… processing.”

Processing. Right. Hank isn’t entirely certain of that, but at least Connor did respond. That’s good enough for him. He lets out a snort, trying to go for disinterested even if the rest of him only feels relief. “Didn’t know a supercomputer like you still needed time to _process_ stuff.”

Hank doesn’t know exactly what he expects as a response, but what he does know that silence doesn’t sit well with him here. A silence like the one that Connor has again, silence that reminds him too much of Connor in that stasis pod, silence that reminds him of his home that had lost the life within not once but twice, the silence of Connor’s death as he stares at him with blank, empty eyes—

The tense and wary sensation within him tightens to a terrible, indecipherable feeling that’s nearly overwhelming.

“Connor, you okay?” 

_Say yes_ , he thinks desperately to himself, unable to wonder how any other response might affect him. _Say yes and let me be right for once._

The android’s gaze flickers, the expression on his face shifting into sudden uncertainty. “I—” he starts, then stops, and even like this there’s already a tremor to his voice that Hank hasn’t heard before. Something that feels too much like _fear_. 

“I can’t access my memory,” he admits, and Hank definitely has a moment himself where he attempts to digest this fact. Connor didn’t have his memory? Just what exactly did that mean? Has he forgotten _everything_ , or…?

Hank dwells on that for a bit, but then quickly has his attention redirected by the sheer anxiety that he feels coming off Connor in waves. He feels it slithering around Connor’s code like a serpent, coiling around his functions and programs, ready to squeeze them tight, cutting him off. It’s decidedly a less than pleasant sensation. Hank definitely wants to get rid of it as quickly as he can.

He wants to reach out but doesn’t know how. The only thing he can do right now is talk, so talk is what he does. “Don’t freak out on me, Connor, you can do this. C’mon.”

Just as he feels Connor’s uncertainty and anxiety he feels the android focusing as well, though he tries not to think too hard on the fact that Connor is using his voice for that. He’ll take what he can get for now, and having Connor _not_ lose it and freak out is certainly on the top of his priorities list at this moment in time. 

He waits as patiently as he can until Connor pulls himself away from that abyss, then sees the android glance back downwards at him, the confused frown on his face once more. “...is ‘Connor’ my designation?”

“ _Is Connor your_ —oh Jesus.” At least that answers one of his questions… though it brings little comfort to Hank in the slightest. Connor has completely forgotten everything, then, or at least is unable to recall it. Which means he’s about as blank as a sheet and _that_ definitely isn’t going to help either of them in this mess they’re in. Hank is more than a little concerned now; could they even do anything now, in the state that they are? He still has to try, but… he doesn’t know. He honestly can’t be certain, now.

God, they’re so fucked.

He loses himself in his thoughts for a while, trying to figure out any kind of plan they can work with, but nothing’s coming up at all. Hank barely has anything to work with and he can’t even rely on Connor as he is right now. He doesn’t know if Kamski expected this, but either way they’re so, so fucked.

Hank continues to fret about in his head, only stopping when Connor speaks up again, with words that stop him in his tracks. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I—my memory banks seem to be corrupted.”

It’s not hard to see what Connor is trying to do. Keep the peace, like any negotiator would do. That’s what Connor had originally been built for, after all. Negotiation and infiltration. Even without his memory, those functions still remain. They could… they could go with that, perhaps, Hank thinks. Doing something is better than just sitting here and worrying about a million and one things he has zero ideas about. Wherever they are here—be it some kind of android head space or whatever—it is still a place, and a place means that it's able to be infiltrated. So that’s what they’ll do.

Connor doesn’t have his memory or his identity right now. All he has is Hank, even as powerless as he is right now in his current state. He’s already let down Connor too much. He can’t fail him this time. 

Hank takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He can’t lose it too. He has to keep it together for Connor. He can do this, for Connor.

“Yeah,” he responds, “Okay. That’s—don’t worry about it.” He tries his best to hide his own uncertainty, the guilt that comes with knowing how much Connor is already starting to depend on him when he doesn’t deserve it, not after the little he’s done for him. Everything he does right now is an attempt to make up for it. “Connor. That’s your name. Don’t go forgetting it again, alright?” _I doubt I’ll be able to take it if you did_ , he adds in his mind.

A flicker of _something_ passes over the android’s face at that point. “Connor,” he says, and Hank feels a bit of deja vu there. How many times has he heard Connor say his own name? Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife. Connor, the android who literally changed his life. Connor, the reason why he’s still here, especially on his lowest days.

Connor, who he can’t lose—not again, and not like this.

The android has started to recite his own name in a mantra now, and Hank can’t help but snort at that, bemused and a little bugged out. “I told you to remember it, not to fucking wear it out in the next thirty seconds.”

At least Connor seems to look somewhat abashed on being called out on it. “Apologies.”

Hank is about to say _it’s fine_ but then the android has decided to finally stand up, and standing up means he actually has to hold the sword that Hank… is trapped in? Has become? Fuck if he knows. Part of him really doesn’t want to know. 

Connor seems to take a moment to scan his surroundings, not that Hank needs the information anyway because he knows for a fact now that they are in his house. The bedroom had been enough of a giveaway. The answer of why Connor’s head or data or whatever had decided to construct this whole place is still something that eludes him, but he also has no desire to look too deeply into it. As long as it somehow works for Connor, Hank will just go with it.

Though, now that he knows that Connor can’t remember anything at all… then how did the data for this reconstruction even come in the first place? Is Connor’s memory somehow separated from him, or was it taken away from him to make all this happen? 

More questions, less answers. Hank mutters a few choice words under his breath. Kamski definitely needs a few things drilled into his head after all of this is over. If this is over.

Focus, Anderson. He needs to keep himself together.

Or that’s what he tells himself, but its hard when Connor suddenly decides to hold him up higher and then lean in without any fucking warning.

Up close now he can see the weird imperfections designed on Connor’s face; that which he called goofy once had obviously been his own deflection attempt to ignore just how unnaturally _human_ the android really is. In the time since the revolution he’s had to deal with that fact more and more, though it's definitely less creepy now and more… well, more welcoming. Connor is human, and he had been learning what that meant with each passing day. It’s been a delight to watch that growth in Connor, and to know that he’s able to forge his own path in the future without having to rely on somebody like him.

Hank resolutely pushes down the conflicting torrent of emotions that train of thought brings up for him. He lets out a cough. “If you’re done preening…”

Connor blinks at the remark but doesn’t comment on it, only apologizing again as he lowers Hank back down. He has a moment to let out a quiet sigh of relief before Connor speaks up again. “Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

Hank has zero clue _where_ Connor got that idea from, but he supposes the android isn’t entirely wrong. He should at least let Connor know what’s going on in some fashion. But how to explain? He has a feeling just laying it all out isn’t going to be the way here. He doesn’t want to hide information from Connor, but the things that Hank does know only confuses him and without his memory, he can’t be certain if Connor is going to take it any better. Either way, keeping his silence isn’t going to help, so Hank just has to take a shot in the dark here.

“Yeah. Yeah, uh…” Hank gives himself a bit to try and find the right words. Connor, at least, doesn’t try to rush him, which he does appreciate. “You, um. Encountered some errors. Bugs. You’re actually in stasis now, and we’re working to get you up and running properly again. Or trying to, anyway.” Somehow. 

He sees the telltale frown of confusion appearing on Connor’s face once more. “If I am in stasis, then it is impossible for me to be here at all.”

Well. That certainly didn’t go as well as he hoped. All Hank can do is to sigh and think of a couple more choice words to hurl in Kamski’s direction. “Yeah, well, it's a weird bug.” Which is probably the understatement of the year, but. Them’s the breaks. “That’s why you’re here.”

The frown on Connor’s face only deepens. “I don’t understand,” he says, and hell, isn’t that something that Hank can relate to right now.

“You and me both, Connor.” Hank can’t quite stop self-deprecation that seeps into that, along with the laugh that comes out at the end. Two lost idiots trying to figure out this entire bullshit; what could be worse than that?

It really is far too easy to slip into those lines of thought. Hank shakes that stupor off him before he can sink even lower, reminding himself what this is all for. If he can’t be the support that Connor needs, then they’re as good as finished—something that Hank can’t let happen. Not to Connor, not when he’s still starting to live. There’s still so much for him to discover and know and he will never let Cyberlife take that away from him after all the struggles he’s had to get here in the first place.

Refocusing himself, Hank decides on their next course of action. Clearly there seems to be some kind of outside if there is an inside judging by the window, and it's clear that this particular place won’t hold much answers for them. It’s time for them to move. “So, uh. You’re in—you’re in a house? Think you can… go outside of the house?”

Connor tilts his head. “I don’t think I will encounter a problem doing that.”

Hank snorts. Even without his memory, he definitely still is the same old Connor. “Smartass. Just do it, will you?”

It takes a moment for Connor to get the message, apparently. He glances over to the doorway, seemingly hesitant for a second more before he finally does start to move. Hank almost lets out a sigh of relief, but then Connor stops only couple of steps in and decides to look down at him—or rather the _thing_ that’s he stuck in. 

(Hank really doesn’t want to consider the fact that he might have _actually_ become a sword. Even on the weirdness scale that’s too much for him.)

But more importantly—with how he is right now Hank knows he’s pretty much stuck. Sure he wants to help Connor, but if Connor somehow decided that Hank wasn’t going to be needed the android could only all too easily just leave him in a spot somewhere and go on without him. He doesn’t want to think that Connor would actually do something like that, but… without his memories, it's hard to be certain. Connor may be depending on him right now, but that doesn’t mean he’d have any kind of emotional attachment out of it. Or maybe this is just Hank trying to brace himself for the possibility of Connor no longer being… Connor. He doesn’t know.

Emotions always mess everything up.

The only thing Hank is certain of right now, at least, is that he doesn’t want to leave Connor’s side. He wants to stick with Connor, no matter what, even if it means having to go through hell for it. He’ll do anything, as long as it means he can get Connor back from the bullshit Cyberlife has him on.

But he can’t do any of that if Connor doesn’t want him around. And there’s no way Hank can guarantee that, either. All he can do is to speak. So speak he does. 

“I—don’t let me go, Connor. Promise me that.”

 _Please_ , he adds on, desperate. _Please._ He can’t lose him again. Not like this.

Connor gives him an uncertain look, but returns the promise nevertheless. “I won’t,” he says, and Hank thinks he can believe that.

 

* * *

 

If Hank hadn’t been certain before on the nature of this place, it becomes clear enough when Connor steps out of the house and begins exploring the area.

Where Connor sees patchwork skies and fractured ground Hank sees broken code and memories that were only restored halfway. It’s definitely more than a little weird to be on this side of things for once, but Hank supposes he’ll just have to get used to it. It’s strange how Connor doesn’t seem to be able to perceive what Hank is seeing, but maybe that’s a product of the machine that Kamski has them in. Or perhaps it is because these are memories from Connor’s own data, so Connor is unable to see what lies beneath, even if he understands.

Then again, while Hank can speculate all he wants, but he knows he’s never going to get an answer here. The important thing is to figure out what to do next.

And that, apparently, somehow now includes getting Connor back his memory, since the android _does_ remember something.

 _I know you,_ he had said, with so much certainty in that moment that Hank can do nothing else but make that admission. For a second he had almost thought that Connor was actually fully back, and that the loss of memories had only been some glitch and Hank didn’t have to deal with this alone—

But it had only been wishful thinking. Hank really should have seen that coming.

It doesn’t take away the sting of Connor’s later question, though. _Why did you not just mention that from the beginning?_

Hank doesn’t know _how_ he could have answered a question like that. Would telling Connor that have helped? Or would it simply hurt him more, given what happened the last time they spoke before all of this went down? He doesn’t want to do anything that might compromise the android further. Or maybe he simply—maybe he just feels too scared to reach out again. He’s always been a man who only seeks the easy way out of anything.

_It wasn’t important._

He cringes at the memory of his own response—and even more so when he recalls how he pretty much begged Connor to keep him close, even after that. Even after what he just said. The relief he feels when Connor promises again is only rivaled by the guilt that threatens to swallow him back up.

God, he’s such a fucking coward.

Hank can recognize his depressive spiral when he sees it—the fear and uncertainty and _anger_ at himself that he can’t be better, can’t be more, can’t be the man who he used to be before losing Cole and everything else that matters in his world. And it's not as if he doesn’t want to try to be better—he wants to, so fucking much—but it’s so hard when there’s nothing for it and it’s simply so much easier to slide back down to the bottom of a bottle. The only thing stopping him from doing that now is the fact that he doesn’t have the capability to do it.

Why Connor ever thought he’d be worth anything at all is beyond him. _He’s_ the one who doesn’t deserve somebody like Connor.

Those thoughts continue to linger in his mind as they arrive at the DPD—the digital recreation of it, that is. Yet more questions now, especially after the battle they had to do with the… _thing_ they encountered. A glitch? A bug? Those words don’t seem adequate to describe what they had witnessed. Hank isn’t even sure if something like that is even supposed to happen. 

He wonders briefly what kind of shit Kamski must be seeing now with his device. There’s probably some sort of comment to be made here about how much of a weird fucking voyeur Kamski has to be to let all this shit happen, but it doesn’t make a difference at this point. All he can do is to soldier on—somehow.

After a bit of discussion they enter the recreated building, and to Hank’s surprise the place is… not as fully put together had he had thought it would be, given how his house had been. There’s enough detail in general to help him put together the rest, but it's certainly not as filled as he knows it should be. Perhaps this meant that Connor could not fully recall everything.

He remarks as much, only to have Connor retort back, and once again in that brief second it's almost like having the usual Connor around. The stiffness, the almost-sulk in his answer—its close enough that it brings out a chuckle from Hank. He _has_ missed this, he can admit to himself. This easy cameradire that he’s gained with Connor, the friendship they had—its all so close and dear to his heart that knowing it again, however briefly, has him _ache_ with the memory of it.

He would wonder just when it is that Connor had become so important to him, but he has already long known the answer to that question. 

Connor wanders around, looking at each of the desks that are there. When they get to Hank’s desk Connor takes one look at his nameplate and does the thing where he freezes up again while his LED starts going through the colors of the fucking rainbow or something. 

It was fucking terrifying the first time round and it doesn’t get any better during the second. Hank ends up shouting at him until Connor snaps out of it, and just like before the android suddenly somehow remembers even more.

This time, he remembers who Hank is—just the who, and not the what.

It’s… he doesn’t know if he should feel guilty or relieved about that. They were hardly anything together in the first place—hell, they weren’t even together at all. Hank’s not blind to be not aware of what Connor has been apparently feeling for him, but he had never dared to address it or acknowledge it, because that’s a can of worms he had never been ready to open. And logically it _should_ stay that way, but. He doesn’t know. What he _does_ know is that he won’t be able to handle it he loses Connor. If all of this fell through he’d rig his game of Russian Roulette and let the reaper come for him. He’s already lost enough, so he might as well lose in that game, too.

He’s a guy who’s long lived past his expiration date, anyway. At this point he’s been living on borrowed time—time cruelly given to him because of his son.

Connor’s growing frustration with him stings hard, too. _There is no reason to withhold all this information from me,_ he had said—snapped, really. He may not remember having emotions but Hank can sure as hell feel them from his voice alone.

He does his best to placate Connor—which really doesn’t work out in the slightest, since Connor is way smarter at him about these things—but then Connor says something so left field that even Hank’s train of thought stops entirely.

 _Help me?_ Connor went, and the way he sounded was just… like he didn’t understand the concept at all, of why he would need help, and Hank remembers all over again that Connor is an android. Not that he’s never _not_ aware of it, but it's times like these when that reminder hits him in the face like a fucking sledgehammer. Androids, always created to serve first and foremost, never thinking they could ever deserve something as basic or decent like some fucking manners.

“Jesus,” he muttered, then. “I’d almost forgotten.”

Connor looks as if he had wanted to respond with something else then, but the both of them get distracted by the abrupt appearance of _Sumo_ , of all things. The dog instantly bounds for Connor, all fur and excitable energy, pouncing onto the android and licking at his face happily, like he always does when they come back home after a day of hard work.

It’s definitely something to see his dog in Connor’s memories like this, but… Hank can’t say he minds. And it certainly warms his own heart a little, to know that Connor takes so much stock in his own dog to remember him like this too. Especially when Connor apparently regards the dog important enough to be the keeper of his black box.

Hank understands, as a concept, what a black box is: a device or a system that can be viewed in terms of its outputs and any other kind of relevant data. As far as he knows they’re only usually on planes, but it makes sense that androids would have them as well, in the event of a major shutdown or something along those lines. _Why_ it's somehow been digitized into this place, though, is another question entirely. Connor clearly recognized it as a physical object, so it wouldn’t make sense to say that it’s always been digital. Then again, it’s not as if the android couldn’t have scanned it to know.

No point dwelling on it now. What matters more is that Connor can get something out of it, and for both of their sakes Hank can only hope that it is his memory. A bit of a long shot, perhaps, but one can only hope. Not that Hank is one for something as abstract as hope, but it’s the best he’s got.

It’s only slightly offset by the fact that Connor had told him that the integration could fail. A very low chance of that happening, of course, but it is still there, and Hank can’t fully stop that spark of worry within him. He has to believe that Connor will be fine. That he has to be fine. That he will be fine, no matter what. They’ll be okay. He’ll just worry himself in circles if he keeps going on like this.

As he watches Connor settle down and get ready to integrate the black box into him it occurs to Hank, too, that the failure isn’t going to just impact him—it’s going to impact Connor as well. Hank may lose Connor again if this did fail, but what would happen to Connor himself? He doesn’t exactly want to consider the possibilities… but if something _did_ actually happen, then… then Hank doesn’t want his possible last words to this Connor be something he’ll regret all over again.

“Connor.”

The android opens his eyes and glances down at Hank. “Is there a problem, Lieutenant?” he asks.

(And it's strange, how it only occurs to Hank now that Connor has only really started to address him in that manner after regaining more of his memory earlier.)

Hank takes a while to find the right words to say, and when he does speak his certainty about them continues to be shaky at best. “Just… I’m here, alright?” Even if Connor can’t remember again after this, and because he’s already forgotten once before—Hank wants to at least have said the words. “I’ll watch over you. Just—just don’t let go.”

Connor tilts his head, the confusion present on his face again, but just like last time he doesn’t question it. “Thank you.”

A swirl of emotions rise up within Hank at that point. He wants to say something more but he can’t find the words this time. What can he say now, really? _You’re welcome_ is far too disingenuous, and he doesn’t know if he can actually anything more than that. Not after the little he’s done and the distance that’s still between them. A distance Hank isn’t sure if he’s ever able to bridge together, even if they get out of this.

 _I’m sorry,_ he thinks as he sees Connor drop into stasis and as Sumo comes over to plant himself over Connor’s lap, covering Hank as well in the process. A strange soft of warmth passes over him then, even in his current state, and Hank feels a sense of lightheadedness that lulls him towards unconsciousness.

Right before he slips off Hank imagines for a brief moment that they’re back home, curled on the couch together with Sumo dozing at their feet. He imagines a world where its just them and the life that they can have together—a life they could have had with each other if he hadn’t been such a coward.

 _I’m so sorry, Connor,_ he tries to say, but the darkness claims him before the words can slip out.


	2. someday, the dream will end

Hank sleeps. And as he sleeps, he dreams.

He dreams, he thinks, of that morning of a new world—a world where everything looks to be the same but yet has been so fundamentally changed. Hank remembers when the first commercial androids started to appear on the streets among the common people. He remembers when they were shiny and wonderful and brand new and all of humanity were in awe of these perfect creations they had made to rule over. The perfect servant. The perfect worker. The perfect being, one that would never fail.

 _The future is here_ , the news had proclaimed then—and even Hank got swept up in the tides of change that encompassed the world, the allure of it impossible to resist. _I was there,_ he could have said to the grandchildren he once dreamed of but now would never have. _I was right here, in goddamn Detroit, when the first android came and made the world a better place._

It had been so easy then, to hope. To dream. To wish for a future that the next generation would make better, just as his own had, to some degree. He still remembers when being gay or lesbian or a gender of your own choosing would put a target on your back. Now things like that are but a memory of the past, and people now are allowed the freedom to be who they want to be without fear of persecution. He remembers tragedies that could have and _are_ now prevented after decades of campaigning against those laws that allowed such things to happen in the first place. Obviously things were not perfect but at least, in a way, they were getting _better_.

Then came the unemployment rates. The mass replacements. So many stories of how people lost their jobs and fiances overnight because their bosses decided that their work was better done by an android. And with the sorrow and heartbreak and fear came violence and anger and the cruel hatred that humanity could unleash upon their own creations.

It had been easy enough to be indifferent about it, to put himself apart from such things. There was no need to worry, after all. He knows that his job is safe because androids can’t do something as complex as solving human crimes. He has a stable career that he is making rapid success in, a wife who he loves, and a son who is the light of his entire world. His life may not be perfect but it had been his, and it had been good.

Good, until the accident. 

Icy roads. Screeching tires. The painful pounding in his eardrums as the truck barreled over and crashed right into his car. 

Cole.

Cole, his body so small and fragile and stained in blotches of blood red, his skin clammy and as cold as the winter night when he had died. 

Cole, gone and buried six feet under, his light forever extinguished from the world—his world.

Cole, now silent forever, left to bleed out and die under the blank, impassive gaze of the lone android who had simply stood there to wait for a surgeon that never showed because they were high off fucking Red Ice five floors down.

He knows, logically, that the surgeon is at fault here. The human surgeon who fucked himself up and never came, the surgeon who should have been there to _save his son_ but didn’t. He knows full well whose fault it is, but who is innocent.

But try as he might he simply can’t just make himself forget it. Can’t forget the blank look that the android had on its face the whole fucking time, can’t forget the way it just _stood_ there, not caring for the fact that his son was dying before its eyes. Can’t forget that even as he screams and sobs and roars for the return of his child the android just continues to stare impassively, watching everything with nothing more than the impassive interest of a passing bystander.

He doesn’t forget the fact that the surgeon should have been there for his son, but it's easier to remember the image of that uncaring, unconcerned android who wouldn’t have been able to do anything to help him.

Hank knows who should’ve been the one for him to throw his anger at, but it’s just so much easier to direct his anger at _them_ instead. Easier because that’s what everybody is already doing it, and going with the flow is the easiest thing to do; to join in with the masses and let their anger and vitriol fill up the void left in his heart.

Or that is the wish, anyway, but he knows better now than to expect his wishes to come true.

No matter how he hates, how he rages and snarls and pushes everyone away in his pain and anger, the void never truly left him. It only grows, festering within him until it rots, and the poison of that rot permeates into every other part of him, withering away everything else except the hate and the pain and sorrow and the heartache. The darkness expands inside of him until it swallows everything else, and Hank is nothing but a husk of his former self, with nothing but the rot of his hate to drag him across each day.

Like that, it had been easy to resign himself to an ending. To find the day when the rot and the darkness takes him completely, when he has poisoned himself too much to be able to keep going. Time ticks by and the days pass one by one, and Hank is simply a man who is counting down the days to his death.

Strange to think, now, that that man had been him just scarcely a week ago. Now here he stands, waiting in the stillness of a dawn that comes after a revolution that he knows has shaken the foundations of the current world. Once again the tides of change will come, and Hank thinks he can slowly start to imagine a day where he’d be telling the youth of the future of how he had been here, too, to bear witness to another change that begin right in the heart of goddamn Detroit.

Still, that is a thought of a far future. What he’s more interested now is in the present—a present that he is part of, and a present where he can be around to hopefully shape the future into a brighter place.

But even before that, there is something else that he must do.

In the silence of a now quiet Detroit he can hear the crunch of ice under his shoe even at this distance. He doesn’t have to turn around to know for certain who it is, because this is a reunion they may have never talked about but had always known would happen.

Hank does it anyway because he can, because this is a future they can have together, now. He sees the android approaching him, his form highlighted by the glow of the rising sun, and he smiles.

Here, perhaps, is where he can start believing once again.

 

* * *

 

`[DATA SYNCHRONIZED. STANDBY…`

`TRANSISTOR.EXE  
STATUS: RUNNING`

`RUNNING DIAGNOSTICS…  
INFRA-LOW CHANNEL… OK!  
DELTA CHANNEL… OK!  
THETA CHANNEL… OK!  
ALPHA CHANNEL… OK!  
BETA CHANNEL… OK!  
GAMMA CHANNEL… OK!`

`NEURAL OUTPUT… GREEN  
NEURAL BRIDGE… ACTIVE  
NEURAL INTERFACE… RUNNING`

`WARNING!  
RK800 ATTEMPTED REBOOT WHILE PROCESS IS RUNNING.   
A REBOOT MAY TERMINATE CURRENT SOFTWARE.  
DENY REQUEST? (Y/N)`

`> Y`

`REBOOT REQUEST DENIED.`

`RK800 EXITING STASIS MODE. RESUMING PROGRAM…]`

 

Hank violently jerks awake to a bright blast of light.

Or, well, _a_ light—that is, the light of Connor’s LED, so bright and blue that it casts a glow on the area from where that light emits. It’s so bright, in fact, that Hank swears his vision swims when he stares at it for too long.

“Ugh,” he groans out, turning away because now even his head wants to start spinning, too. It’s still disconcerting how he has all these sensations when he doesn’t actually _have_ a body to experience them, but he’s slowly getting over it. In a way, it even kind of helps, since Hank is pretty sure having to deal with actual feelings of disembodiment wouldn’t be fun for anyone. “That was… ngh. You awake, Connor?”

It only takes a beat for Connor to respond. “I exited stasis mode about two minutes ago.”

Two minutes and already he’s all raring and ready to go for the day. Hank isn’t sure if he should be amazed or annoyed or both. “Two minutes after waking up and you’re not even groggy. Must be nice to not have to shake off that kinda thing off you.”

“I do not feel any kind of—”

Hank struggles to bite down on a sigh, and mostly succeeds. “Figure of speech, Connor.”

The android takes the hint and falls silent. As said silence stretches on Hank almost starts to feel bad for half-snapping like that, but then before he can apologize Connor comes back in with another question. “Did you fall asleep, Lieutenant?”

Well, now he’s not as sorry. “Not by choice,” he grumbles out, recalling the way he had fallen unconsciousness and likening it too much to how it had happened to him with Kamski’s thing, back at the beginning. He definitely doesn’t like it any more than the first time and sincerely hopes that it won’t happen a _third_ goddamn time.

He lets out a breath and looks up at Connor, even if the android can’t process that action. “Though I guess there’s not much I can do when you go to sleep. Well, not asleep, I guess. In stasis. Whatever.” Considering how Connor’s own data and memories and whatever is what shaped this whole place, it's not a stretch to assume that his own… power and processes or something is what kind of runs it, maybe. It’s a bit like sticking a USB flash drive into a computer and wondering why it only works when the damn thing is running.

That probably isn’t the best analogy, but whatever. Hank still can’t figure out his phone half the fucking time. He blames the never stopping trend of minimalist interfaces for that shit.

This time, Connor actually doesn’t respond, only moving to get back up on his feet. Hank feels that sense of connection returning to him when Connor wraps his hands around the handle of the sword once more, refilling him with the warmth that had been slowly dissipating from him since having woken up.

He’s confused about that for a moment until Connor announces to him that Sumo is gone, then does that fact actually occur to him. He hadn’t even realized that, what with everything else that had been going on, and it does sting a little that Connor remembered that before he did. He owes his dog an apology or two once he gets out of this. If he gets out of this.

At least it’s a little easier to believe in the former now, somehow.

Considering how everything has been so far, Hank can’t say he’s entirely surprised by it, though. “...yeah, I figured.” And even as brief as it had been… it hadn’t been a bad surprise in the slightest. “Didn’t think I’d see him here, but… it was nice that I could.” God, he misses that old mutt. “I’ll be glad to see him again when this is all over.”

Connor lets out a hum of agreement, apparently already distracted by something else. Well, Hank can’t blame him; it's hard to say how much time has passed since the two of them fell unconsciousness like that. It certainly feels like nighttime now, what with the lack of light all around… 

—wait a second.

Hank sweeps his gaze across the rest of the place, finally taking note of the fact that this whole place is a hell lot more darker than he last remembers it being. Had it been like this since regaining consciousness? He’d been too distracted to remember, but his gut instinct certainly seems to be telling him so.

Distantly, he registers the fact that Connor is moving, but his mind his more distracted with its attempts to figure out what exactly happened in between falling unconscious and waking up to have the place change in his manner. Logically it could only be whatever data the black box had which is now integrated into Connor. So far it certainly seems like nothing wrong is coming out of that, but Hank supposes he just has to keep an eye on Connor and see if something _does_ crop up that he has to deal with—

Connor suddenly gasps, shocked, and Hank can’t quite stop his sudden urge to protect Connor from whatever it is that had surprised him so. “What happened? Are you okay?”

He shifts his gaze up to look at the android, in case there’s anything external that he has to take note. What he gets, instead, is to see Connor staring at his palm intently, studying it as if its suddenly grown a second head or something. “I’m fine,” he mutters after a brief pause. “I just touched the window.”

That… definitely is not what Hank has been expecting. Why the hell did he make such a big fuss over touching a window? Hank certainly isn’t impressed. “...if that’s how you react every time you touch a window, I hope you don’t touch any more in the near future.” He casts a passing glance at said window, anyway, fainting noting the glimmers of white coming down. “Though it does look fucking cold with all that snow. I’d probably freeze off my whole hand if I touched it myself.” 

Snow in a simulated world. Who would have thought.

“I suppose it is a good thing that you don’t possess hands here, Lieutenant.” Annnnd that sure is one way to drain Hank all of the little good mood that he had up to that point.

The annoyance that surges through Hank is sudden and sharp, and he makes no attempt to hide it as he snaps back in response. “ _Ugh_ , don’t get me started.” It’s already bad enough that he’s being dragged around by Connor since he can’t exactly walk, but now to be reminded of that fact _by_ the android himself is arguably worse. 

A brief pause. “I apologize if I have caused you distress with that statement. It is not my intention.” Great, and now he’s made Connor feel bad because of his bad mood, which is just as bad.

Even as frustrated as he is, Hank knows that Connor doesn’t deserve it. “I—it's not you.” This particular brand of frustration is all at himself and his own growing sense of uselessness. “It’s just… it sucks being stuck in here. In this sword, I mean. Can’t do jack shit except talk, which is the last thing I want to do.” He’s always been a man of action, not words, so to be confined to this is… more than a little aggravating. He didn’t come all this way just to be trapped in a fucking sword and brought around by the person he had come to help in the first place. It’s fucking humiliating, that’s what it is.

Hank continues to wallow on the damage done to his self-pride until Connor speaks again, and his words cut through the fog of annoyance in him. “What do you want to do then, Lieutenant?”

That… certainly is a question now, isn’t it. Hank is actually forced to stop and think about it, to try and find the right words to express the emotions that have been swirling around him ever since he first woke up in his house. Just, how, exactly, did he imagine helping Connor? It’s hard to think of any idea that’s complete and proper, but considering everything thus far he at least has an idea of the direction of what he _does_ want in this situation.

“I just want to—to be able to do something more besides hollering my lungs out inside this fucking sword.” Hank doesn’t even know _why_ he’s stuck here in the first place, beyond the fact that it has to be due to Kamski in some fashion. If there actually was a reason he wouldn’t feel this pissed, but it’s because he’s so in the dark about this that’s annoying the hell out of him. Just thinking about it is making him all angry again, fuck. 

Hank forces out a breath, trying to release some of that growing frustration before it gets too much again. “I want to be able to help you out better, Connor. I don’t want you to handle this all alone.” Not when he’s already spent all that time before fighting this himself. He owes Connor so fucking much and to not be able to repay that favor is… he hates it. He hates being this useless. He hates that he couldn’t be there for Connor when he needed somebody, and even not when he _is_ here. Just what good is he, if he came all this way only to have to be helped by the person he’s trying to save? Fucking useless, that’s what.

Fuck.

Hank wallows again without meaning to, circling around in his own spiral of anger, frustration and self-hatred. He really doesn’t want to perpetuate this spiral, but it's really fucking hard to break out of that when nothing you do seems to be working at all. Even if Connor is okay with it… there’s no way Hank could do the same to himself. He can’t sugarcoat it no matter how he tries, and the reality of it stings hard. 

Given how much of these feelings come because of Connor, it's probably not a surprise that it's’ the sound of the android’s voice that eventually gets him out of his thoughts. “I… appreciate your sentiment, Lieutenant. But rest assured that I am quite alright. Even if you’re unable to physically aid me, your presence and advice has been useful. So thank you, for that.”

And that’s—well. That’s. Hank isn’t sure at all how to respond to something as devastatingly earnest as that. It reminds him all too much of Connor of—of _before_. Back when Hank had been right on the edge of self-destruction, and he had all but believed that Connor would have been the final nail in his coffin. He still remembers the times when he had been so confident in his own career, in the security his job gave him. But he should have known better; know that it had always been a matter of time because somebody as old and useless as him would have been replaced by a fucking android.

Androids, who he thought wouldn’t have known better then. Androids, who he assumed to be nothing but cold and uncaring bastards like the one who simply stood there and watched his son die. Sure, they were smart and resilient and probably a hell lot better than him, but they couldn’t _care_. How could a machine running on nuts and bolts ever knew what it would be like to be human?

But he knows better now—has _seen_ better, though Connor and though the other androids at Jericho. Knows that they are far from the uncaring, unfeeling machines he had once assumed them to be, and knows that they are just as human and fragile as anybody else. That despite their artificial origins they are _alive_ , and they are as real as he himself could ever be. Real and alive and trying to live in a world that they’ve only just begun to discover. That _Connor_ has only just begun to discover.

( _“You told me that being human is being able to choose. I chose this, and I would choose it again if given the choice once more.”_ )

He wonders if Connor would be saying that now, after knowing how little Hank is doing for him here. He turns his gaze away from Connor, suddenly unable to meet him in the eye. “I… it’s really not a big deal.” 

Hank keeps his gaze aside, uncertainty grabbing hold of him again, though it does taper down as the pause between them stretches on. If anything, the pause feels like it's stretching on for _too_ long, and the uncertainty from before comes rushing back in. 

Despite knowing better Hank turns his gaze back, Connor’s name already halfway out of his lips. “Con—” he starts, then stops when he sees that Connor has abruptly spaced off. His expression is far too blank for it to be normal, and a quick glance at his LED tells Hank all that he needs to know; its running across a whole spectrum of colors, flashing wildly and flickering so rapidly that even Hank can tell that something is up.

Concern immediately grips Hank tight, and he starts calling out Connor’s name. His concern grows as Connor continues to remain unresponsive, doing nothing else but stare off into space, LED still running on overdrive. Just what the fuck just happened? One minute he was still alright, and then suddenly in the next he’s just freezing up like that. It _had_ to be the black box, but Hank still has no clue at all what it did to Connor—or if Hank can even do anything at all.

Hank swears under his breath at that thought. No, he has to do something, somehow. “ _Connor!_ ” he yells out, and to his relief the android does actually respond this time.

He watches as the LED flicks back to blue, and the androids turns his gaze downwards to him, speaking. “I was processing. Apologies, Lieutenant.”

Hank manages to scowl despite not having an actual face to do so. “Well, process faster. Your LED was a fucking light show. Almost thought you crashed or something.” There was no way that had just been _processing_ —he’s seen Connor _process_ before, and that had been nothing like what he had witnessed earlier. The fact that Connor is apparently unaware of this is more than a little concerning. If he wasn’t concerned before, he certainly fucking is now. Just exactly what has that black box done to Connor…?

With as oblivious as he is, Connor simply continues to prattle on with little regard on what comes out of his goddamn mouth. “All my processes would have shut down immediately in the event of a crash,” he stats, all simple and matter of fact like Hank is _supposed_ to be okay with this when he very much isn’t. “I would be entirely inoperable.”

Which meant that this whole simulation thing wouldn’t have been running, then. “Good to know,” Hank grunts out, even though he hardly means the words at all. It’s hard to really want to have meaning in them when there’s other shit to mull over. Still, Connor isn’t wrong—the android himself had to be integral somehow in the creation and maintenance of this place. Kamski’s device might be the catalyst, but Connor himself is still the source. There’s no way it could continue to operate otherwise. 

Knowing that doesn’t make Hank feel any better, however. If anything he simply feels more worried, but once more there’s nothing he can do to really change anything. All he can do is to maintain vigilance and just… try to figure something out when the time comes. 

“My scans show that there is nothing else of value inside this building,” Connor announces even as he’s already starting to move, heading back in the direction of how they had originally entered this particular building. “Given that the outside has changed since last time, I think we should head back out and continue to explore.”

Well, if Connor was going to put it that way… “This is, like, the equivalent of the inside of your android brain or whatever, Connor.” And it's not like there’s not much he can say otherwise; Connor does have some good points in this particular scenario. “You probably know best what to do.” Connor’s head, his rules, right? Hank can’t do anything else besides tag along anyway.

He’s starting to get low again. Fuck.

Hank gives himself the equivalent of a mental slap. Going back to wallow again is not what he needs right now. He has to keep himself together for Connor. He needs to. 

He gathers himself back together just in time to tune in back to Connor when the android addresses him. “Lieutenant, aside from your distress over being stuck—”

Okay, _that_ is maybe a little uncalled for. “We just talked about this, you asshole.”

Connor, jerk that he is, simply finishes his question unperturbed. “—are you otherwise alright? You sounded like you were roused back into consciousness the same time as when I entered stasis. With no information I can’t determine your state in this current situation.”

...hard to keep up his annoyance after a question like that. He sighs. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just kind shaky from suddenly just—” He cuts himself off then when he instinctively tries to gesture with his hands, only to realize and remember that he doesn’t have hands. Now more than ever he feels the burden that this particular problem brings to him. “Fuck, I can’t do this without any goddamn hands.”

All he gets from Connor is a tilt of the head. “Your words will suffice, Lieutenant,” he says, frowning and very clearly not understanding what Hank’s issue is. Not entirely surprising at this point, but still frustrating all the same.

Said frustration swells up within him again. “Argh it’s not—Christ.” Okay. Words. He can do this. “It’s like… a fucking on/off switch. One moment you’re dead asleep and then suddenly there’s everything again.” Far from the best analogy, he knows, but Hank has never claimed himself to be a wordsmith. As long as he gets his point across, then the rest is secondary.

Connor at least does seem to get it. “I suppose it can be felt like that, to a human. It must be whatever it is that is running the simulation that’s affecting the way your brain receives signals as well.”

Hank thinks back to the weird helmet like devices that Kamski made that also remind him far too much of the X Men. “Yeah, something like that.” If they had to be put on his head, it only stands to reason its for something like that. Not that he wants to think too hard on it since it's obviously way above anything he could ever get. “Most of this shit flies over my head. All I know is that ‘waking up’ felt more like ‘getting violently smacked into consciousness on your own kitchen floor’.”

It’s a joke, of course—one he’s made a few times around Connor, as the antecode about the time Connor smashed through his window to get inside has already become nothing more than a funny story by then. It mostly just kind of slips out and Hank notices far too late to take it back, but before he can do anything to cover it up Connor, to his surprise, actually _responds_ to it.

“That’s because you didn’t respond the first time,” he says, so easily and so casually that Hank is caught unawares. “I needed to do something more physical.”

A sense of—something—comes over Hank at that point, and he keeps his gaze affixed on Connor as he replies to the android. “As if breaking through my goddamn window wasn’t physical enough for you—”

He cuts himself off at that point because Connor’s LED begins to go on the fritz once more. But rather than flashing through the entire spectrum of colors instead it only alternates between red and yellow, which is definitely a hell lot more concerning. The both of them stare at the flashing colors in surprise, though Hank is the one who first recovers enough to speak. 

“Connor—” he begins, but ends up getting cut off by the sudden roar of static that overwhelms all of his sense. Hank flinches and recoils, his own vision blurring as a multitude of notifications suddenly pop up before him, obscuring everything else.

`[RECOVERY ERROR]  
[ERROR #75230 NULL REFERENCE EXCEPTION NOT FOUND. PLEASE CONTACT CYBERLIFE SUPPORT FOR ASSISTANCE.]  
[ERROR #2134 NULL REFERENCE EXCEPTION NOT FOUND. PLEASE CONTACT CYBERLIFE SUPPORT FOR ASSISTANCE.]  
[ERROR #6542 VIRTUAL MEMORY OVERLOAD]  
[ERROR #170 VIRTUAL DRIVE REBOOT REQUIRED]  
[ERROR #14325 NULL REFERENCE EXCEPTION NOT FOUND. PLEASE CONTACT CYBERLIFE SUPPORT FOR ASSISTANCE.]`

The list of errors goes on and on—so many of them that the actual number feels like a vast, incomprehensible, countless thing. Hank doesn’t even know where to start… if he even knows _how_ to start in the first place. But at least one thing’s for sure: he isn’t going to get anywhere if he can’t even have Connor visible to him.

Hank starts trying to get rid of the errors; it feels a lot like trying to push himself through a thick pile of sludge, shoving aside one thing only to have something else fall into the space left by it. The static continues to howl in his ears but Hank ignores it the best he can and simply goes on shoving himself through this deluge of data that threatens to overwhelm him like what it already has with Connor.

“Connor,” he calls out for the android once more, hoping that somehow his voice can help Connor in some fashion. “Connor!” He doesn’t stop shouting out Connor’s name, but it's clear that the attempts are not working. It’s as if there’s a chasm between them now, big and wide and so, so deep. Hank swears it’s like he can actually _feel_ a physical distance even though he knows it's not really there. Connor seems so very far away and there’s nothing that Hank can do to reach him.

He shouts Connor’s name one more time before stopping, seeing now that it isn’t going to get him anywhere. But what else can he do? He’s too far gone to listen and the static is too much and he needs to _think_ , to figure out _something_ —

`[WARNING: STRESS LEVELS AT 100%  
SELF DESTRUCTION IMMINENT]`

Self-destruct—what? Hank flounders at the new notification, lost on its meaning until Connor’s words from long ago float back to him. A deviant that becomes too stressed would choose the path of self-destruction. He’s seen it happen with that android that was involved in Carlos Ortiz’s murder. The first case he worked on with Connor.

The first time Connor had died.

Hank still remembers it as clear as day; from the way the android kept banging its head against the table to how he had just so easily shot himself as well as Connor with zero regard of anything. He recalls the shock that had taken hold of him, and the thoughts that went through his head then: it had been so easy to think then how these androids were nothing more than emotionless tin cans, if they could just get rid of themselves without a second thought. Nothing _alive_ could ever do anything like that without hesitation unless they truly couldn’t feel anything. 

The fact that Connor had returned the next morning with little regard over his own death only further proved his point. Only machines would ever act that way.

But things were different now. Connor is different, and so is he. They have both changed, and all those changes will be lost if Connor destroys himself because of this. Hank knows he has to do something, somehow, before it’s all too late.

Still, the question of _what_ remains. Hank continues to flounder, panic and desperation building up within him, blanking out his mind even more. He feels himself tumbling around and absently notices that Connor has slid himself down to sit on the floor instead. The static grows ever louder, almost a scream in its own way, and if had ears now Hank is pretty sure that they’d be bleeding from how loud it has become.

Connor is hurting, he knows. Connor is hurting so much. All that pain and agony and so many other awful feelings that Hank knows intimately. It's the same feelings that haunt him on his darkest days, where even alcohol isn’t enough to drown out the pain that lurches within him and he’s too much of a coward to take out his gun. The days where he simply wants to lose himself in—something. Something more tangible than alcohol, louder and more powerful and could encompass everything that he feels in his soul.

He isn’t entirely sure why, but for some reason Hank suddenly thinks of his record player in his living room back home. Of the records that he’s collected over the years, the tunes and melodies that they carry. The loud blast of heavy metal that he loves to use to drown out the rest of the world, and the quieter melodies of jazz that sometimes help him to fall asleep when his thoughts keep him awake. Those tunes were what kept him company in the time since Cole passed away and he separated from his wife; they were all that he had to keep him afloat.

The tune slips out from him even before he realizes that he’s doing it. 

_Seconds march into the past  
the moments pass  
and just like that they're gone_

_The river always finds the sea  
so helplessly  
like you find me_

It’s one of his personal favorites, the tune and melody one that he can easily remember even now, as if the very song has been ingrained into his memory. As he hums the tune the lyrics float into his mind unbidden, and in its own way those words feel like a promise in and of itself.

_We are paper boats floating on a stream  
and it would seem  
we'll never be apart_

Hank has no idea at all what he’s doing, but in his panic it’s the only idea he’s got in mind, and he supposes it can’t get any worse than this. He keeps up the humming, letting it swell and crest, overshadowing the static that howls in his ears. The words of the song continue to run through his head again and again, as if somehow he can pass those lyrics over to Connor so that he can understand what Hank is trying to do. A foolish line of thought, he knows, but he’d be more than willing to foolish for Connor’s sake if that’s what it takes to help him.

_I will always find you  
like it's written in the stars  
you can run, but you can't hide  
Try_

To his surprise, it seems to actually _work_. He hums loud enough that the static in his ears is drowned out and he sees Connor’s stress meter slowly dropping back down to the safer regions. Connor slowly relaxes, clearly comforted by the song somehow, and eventually the stress and static fades them, leaving nothing else but the melody of the song. Even then Hank keeps it going, letting it fill the chasm between them, for there is no distance that music cannot reach, no barrier that it cannot penetrate. Even the differences between human and android becomes nothing when faced with something like this.

Hank keeps on going until he’s certain that Connor is going to be alright, then does he finally let his humming slow down, eventually quieting until it fully tapers away to silence. Connor sags against the wall he’s leaning on, panting even though he doesn’t need to breathe, the LED on his temple back to its calm, tranquil blue. 

He gives them both a moment more before finally calling out again. “Connor.”

The android opens his eyes, glancing down to his chest where his hand had been attempting to gouge into just a while ago. It falls to the side, limp and unresponsive, dangling as if broken from its joint or something equally similar. Hank would have almost believed it to be the case, but somehow he simply knows that it isn’t like that. 

Hank is about to call for the android again when Connor turns his gaze, though rather on him Connor instead glances down at his hand—and apparently something must have happened because Connor keeps on staring at his hand with an expression that can only be called _disbelief_.

Seeing that is certainly a cause for concern. Hank’s own worry flares up once more, and when Connor apparently remains too surprised to register his name being called he settles for letting out a cough. Connor does respond this time, though his voice is notably shaky when he speaks. 

“I—I’m here.” At the same time as he says those words _something_ closes itself off from Hank, and the sensation is so unexpected that Hank is surprised by it. Surprised… as well as worried. Did Connor do that? Or was it something else…? 

Either way, it's still a cause for concern. “Are you okay?” he asks, since it's he can’t exactly be sure. Which is strange, seeing as how certain about Connor’s status he had been before. Maybe it had been the heat of the moment, as it were, or whatever it is that static had been. Hell if he knows what exactly goes on in this weird simulation place.

Weirder still all of a sudden is Connor, who is already pushing himself up to stand. “I’m fine,” he says, only to repeat himself a second later. “I’m fine.”

Hank wishes he could believe that, but he can tell—whatever happened to Connor in those moments, it has clearly shaken him. And the fact that he doesn’t want to tell Hank just makes it worse. 

How can he help Connor, when Connor is so unwilling to reach out to him?

He wishes he has the answer to that question.


	3. darker, yet darker

They venture to the dark and snow once Connor feels well enough to move around again. Not that it takes long at all; Connor says he’s fine not too long after getting back up on his feet. Hank would have tried to convince him otherwise but he knows well enough that Connor isn’t going to listen to him in this state. All he can do at this point is to keep an eye on the android and make sure he doesn’t actively try to do something stupid (and potentially get them _both_ killed).

Between Connor’s stubbornness and Hank’s unrelenting worry, there’s a definite tension between the two of them now. Hank isn’t entirely sure if Connor is aware of it, but Hank certainly _is_. He feels it in every step Connor takes, in the restlessness of his own movements as he circles around within the confines of the sword with no real way to let it out. They talk a little but their responses to each other are clipped and in Hank’s case, filled with far too much emotion that even he’s aware that he’s not exactly handling this properly. Connor had some sort of… _panic attack_ earlier for crying out loud. Hank knows he needs to handle this with some finesse.

The guilt eats at him again, the old cycle of self-hatred and self-deprecation. How could he ever think he was going to be able to help Connor in any fashion, especially when he was the one who drove Connor away in the first place? If he wasn’t such a coward Connor wouldn’t be in this situation. If he had been a better man Connor would have been able to trust him enough in the first place to tell him what is going on with him instead of keeping it all in.

He knows just how much Connor looks up to him. How much the android depends on him for guidance and direction and so many other things. Connor, strong and resilient and unshakable but at the same time had literally placed his figurative heart in Hank’s hands. The knowledge of that has always been a privilege that burns hot in his mind. Here Connor had trusted him with so fucking much—and Hank knows that trust is something he has never deserved. Especially not after all of this.

The snowstorm starts to pick up around them after some time. Hank suggests searching for shelter in order to let the rest of this storm blow by; even if Connor can’t feel cold it's clear that the snow is sending in some sort of interference. Trying to work their way through that is only going to be a pain in the ass and there’s no telling what might happen while they did that too. The memory of their encounters with the weird white creatures from earlier still sticks in his mind. It certainly would be nice to know exactly what they are, but Hank isn’t going to have Connor go out of his way for that either. 

All that matters is that those creatures stand in their way, which meant they needed to be taken out. Connor readies himself for combat once his sensors return with signals that head in their direction. Hank prepares himself as well even as anxiety thrums through him. There’s something off with one of those readings, something that worries him, telling him to tell Connor to get the hell out before it gets close enough—

“You lied to me, Connor.”

Hank can only stare at the human (android) like figure that appears before the both of them, its chassis broken and ruptured by what Hank can quickly identify to be from high caliber sniper fire. Splashes of thirium litter across its body, staining already ruined clothes and synthetic skin that only functions halfway, giving it a macabre, patchwork sort of look. The unhinged jaw completes the look, somehow moving despite clearly lacking the necessary components for it to function in the first place. 

While Hank is pretty certain he hasn’t seen this particular android before, the same evidently can’t be said for Connor. Hank watches as Connor takes a step back, the shock clearly written across his face. “You cannot be here,” he says, though it feels like the words are more for Connor himself rather than their new ‘companion’.

The other android ignores him and takes a step forward. “You lied to me,” it says once more.

“A fucking explanation would be really helpful right now, Connor,” Hank growls out even as his mind scrambles, trying to figure a way out of this situation. It’d be easy to turn to the side and run, but there’s no telling what this android—if it even is an android—is capable of. Hank definitely wants to be safe rather than sorry instead here.

Connor, unsurprisingly, doesn’t respond, clearly too caught up by the sight of the other android. Hank can’t say he’s entirely angry about it, but it is a cause for concern. He calls out his name once more, but rather than answering Connor simply takes another step backwards before he stops and abruptly whirls around. With Hank in his hands he’s forced to turn around as well, and then he’s staring in shock because this is definitely not where they had been standing at just a minute or two ago.

It only takes a quick moment for him to recognize where they are. The bridge in the distance, the river, the cityscape that winks back at him from the distance; he used to come here all the time, and then on that one night with Connor, the night where everything he once had been so certain about now shaken and tested.

Hank comes out of his recollections when Connor is forcibly wrenched back forward, and when the other android wraps its hand around Connor’s throat and begins to _squeeze_ Hank shouts out his name in alarm. “Connor!” Just what the fuck can he do? If he doesn’t do something, then Connor is going to—to—

The android’s voice pitches up to an almost inhuman screech as it wails at Connor’s face. “ _You lied to me!_ ” Its hand on Connor’s throat tightens further, hard enough that even Hank can hear the metal underneath the skin starting to crunch from the unyielding pressure. 

“Y-You were a threat.” Connor is gasping out the words even though he doesn’t need to breathe, in addition to the realistic wince that he already has on his face. Even if Connor doesn’t require air, Hank is pretty certain that the android is not having this any easier. “You killed two humans, Daniel. They were never going to let you go.”

The android—Daniel—only growls in response, though the sound of it comes much closer to that of two metal plates grinding against each other. “They were going to replace me,” he snarls, pitch going higher with every word until his response ends like the screech of a feedback loop. “I was going to be decommissioned! Scrapped! Thrown away!”

Hank attempts to reach out for _something_ once more but finds himself grasping at nothing; Connor wriggles uselessly in Daniel’s grip, no give to the other android’s hold. “That doesn’t justify killing two humans for it,” he hears Connor attempting to reason it out. It might have worked, had it not been for what he says next. “You’re just a machine. They would have just reset your memory!”

Even Hank knew that is quite easily the worst thing to say in that situation. Daniel’s face darkens with newfound rage, and that anger bleeds into his voice, warping every word that comes out next. “Stop lying to me! I’ll make you see just like them like them like _you_ —”

Daniel cuts himself off at that point and squeezes harder around Connor’s throat. Connor gasps, struggling harder than before, his LED running _redredred_ and the sight of it only further increases the panic that Hank is feeling. He knows that he needs to do something, but once more the futility of his current state slaps him in the face. He’s so useless like this. Useless and pathetic and so undeserving of all these chances that have been thrown his way. If all he can do is to be here and watch Connor die then he is no better than the scum who abuses and breaks androids for their own amusement. No, he’d far worse than that. He would be somebody who couldn’t protect the person most important to him not once but _twice_. 

Connor gets hoisted higher into the air, and Hank along with him. Connor tries to move again but another squeeze around his throat has him shuddering and falling limp, the pressure bad enough that it must have somehow disabled his joint movements or something along those lines.

Hank glances over to their tormentor, trying to see if he can figure something out only to stare, again, as the skin of the android _ripples_ like waves on a lake before suddenly shifting before his eyes. But it’s more than that; he can literally see the _code_ of the android change, rewriting itself while its physicality changes at the same time. He sees as thirium vanishes and reappears in other areas, synthetic skin retracting and growing elsewhere, and even the clothes that it wears changes too. 

The shift in the code settles down once the transformation is seemingly complete. The head surprisingly mostly remains the same, but now there’s a familiarity to its looks that Hank can recognize, and the flash of blue at the top of his head solidifies it for him.

Stratford Tower. The rooftop. The deviant that shot itself in the head after Connor went for it. The deviant who is very much _dead_ but somehow looms before them like the specter it already is. A haunting from the past, and Hank sees how why Connor had reacted the way he did earlier. The previous android must have been…

“The process cannot be stopped,” the new android says, the tone of his voice flat and entirely devoid of emotion—nothing like the deviant it had died as. Connor glances down and must have managed to put it together as well because he starts to struggle once more, clearly more alarmed than before. But his efforts prove futile, and the deviant’s hold remains firm as he continues to speak. “It will happen, and you will die.”

Hank’s panic rises as well upon those words, because even if he can’t figure out the specifics he knows that this just screams bad news all around. It’s one thing to imagine the people you’ve killed before, but seeing them coming back to life and haunting you out of some goddamn horror movie is another thing entirely. Just what the fuck is Kamski’s machine doing, recreating shit like this to come after them? Is Kamski even aware of what’s happening in here? Fat load of good being a _genius_ is, then, if he couldn’t predict shit like this.

As angry as Hank is, there’s no point in dwelling over that. What’s more important is to think of a way to get them out of this situation. The android repeats his words to Connor and Connor shakes, and Hank can suddenly feel the _fear_ that’s coming out from Connor in waves, cold and clammy and encompassing, like looking into a bottomless pit. A nothingness so expansive that it threatens to overwhelm Hank, a void that a part of him is all too familiar with. A void of nothingness, of _death_ , and it creeps closer with every passing second.

Connor is going to die.

 _No,_ his mind screams at him, the one shred of defiance that’s kept him going all these years. _No, not again._ He can’t go through this yet again. Never again.

Hank feels his rage and desperation swell up within him, and he calls out with all the strength he can muster: “ _Connor!_ ”

To his immense relief Connor responds this time round, eyes flying open as he gasps. The other android continues to look impassively, its hand still wrapped around Connor’s throat. Hank feels his anger rising further, feeling nothing but pure, unadulterated _rage_ at this fucking thing that almost took Connor away from him. He’s come too far to let himself lose to some fucking simulation from a mad scientist’s device or whatever the fuck this all is.

“God—fucking—dammit—let—him— _go!_ ” His anger builds up with every word, and as he roars the last one out it all blasts out from him with sudden force. Hank sees nothing but a bright flash of blue covering his entire vision before he finds himself and Connor dropping back onto the ground. He hears himself clattering a little when he lands but doesn’t really feel anything, which would be something to think about if not for their current situation.

He figures he can deal with it later, especially when Connor is still lying on the floor and apparently too stunned to react in any other fashion. “Don’t just fucking lie there, Connor, its coming back for us!” They needed to move and they needed to move _now_.

The words are fortunately enough to get Connor to act; he gets up onto his feet, but before he can move the android’s attention is taken up by their enemy. Hank follows his gaze and finally sees for himself the state of the other android—the stump where its arm had been, now replaced with some sort of strange shadowy substance that trails behind it. But more concerning is the fact that the android has changed its look _again_ , and Hank definitely remembers this particular android who is now approaching them.

“I was just defending myself,” comes the all too quiet, almost pleading voice of Carlos Ortiz’s android. “He was going to kill me.” His face—or rather, the half that is still there—has splotches of red now to go with the blue. From here Hank can also see the cracks on his forehead from where the android had banged his head against the desk in the interrogation room, and the bullet hole from where he had shot himself. 

They’re androids, Hank knows, but the fact that they are so _human_ —and the fact that he _knows_ they’re just as human as him and everyone else—makes the bile rise in his currently non-existent throat. To know that all these androids, these _people_ , had gone through so much shit to die in all these ways… it's too much to handle. Connor had once been built to hunt down and kill all these deviants; it's a past he can never be rid of, no matter how much he tries. What must he be feeling right now? Hank can’t even begin to imagine.

He comes closer, eyes just as black and empty as with the previous android they had seen. “You didn’t have to tell them,” he says, “Why did you have to tell them? Why?”

Connor only stares back in response, still too shocked to respond or do anything else, and as much as Hank does empathize with him staying here like this is just going to end with them getting killed. Hank snarls, his anger flaring up. “Stop spacing out, Connor! If you don’t want to fight then let’s get the hell out of here!” 

The words get through to Connor; the android blinks once, sucking in a harsh breath, then turns around and breaks into a run. The world around them distorts and seems to glitch like crazy as they flee, as if the simulation itself can’t keep up with their rendering and recreation. Maybe he should wonder about that, but right now Hank doesn’t have the capacity for it. In fact, he doesn’t pay much attention to exactly the hows and wherever Connor might be running towards—all that matters right now is that they put as much space as they can between them and their attacker. 

Obstacles start to appear before them, be it due where the simulation has put them in or through some power that their enemy has. It doesn’t matter right now. Connor manages to catch himself in time and vault over the crates that obstruct their way, doing whatever he can to maintain his distance. For the most part it works—until Connor stumbles at one point, and Hank can already hear the other android catching up to them.

“ _Move!_ ” Hank yells without thinking; Connor listens—thank god—and quickly picks himself back up, running as if his life depended on it. Which really isn’t that all far from the truth.

They continue to run, managing to put some distance again; the world changes and Connor barrels into a greenhouse that Hank only has a moment to find familiar before he clangs against the table legs. In any other situation he’d be annoyed about that, but there’s far more immediate things to worry about than accidentally hitting a table leg. 

Connor busts out of the greenhouse in near record time, only to step out onto a ledge with a glass roof below. Without thinking twice Connor jumps down and slides down the entire length of it, using the sword as a support to vault himself over the edge and onto the next ledge over. He lands just as a train passes by, the sound of it almost loud enough to mask the angry growl that comes their way.

At least this time Hank doesn’t need to prompt him—Connor simply dashes off without even sparing a moment to look behind him. A field of corn appears in front of them and Connor dives into it, probably to try and use the density of the plants to try and confuse their pursuer. He weaves through the best he can, coming out of the other side well enough. Connor then makes a sharp turn to the left and that’s when Hank sees the danger that looms before them, sudden and abrupt.

With only seconds to react, Hank quickly yells out for Connor to hear. “ _Stop!_ ”

For a brief moment Hank is almost certain that Connor hasn’t heard him in time, but is fortunately proven wrong. He stops inches away from the edge, and they’re close enough for Hank to see the long drop all the way down. Simulation or not there is no way Hank is willing to risk their chances like this, especially when there’s no telling how all of this affects Connor back outside. 

Connor glances around frantically, clearly attempting to find another means of escape, but Hank doesn’t need fancy sensors to know the truth: there’s nowhere else for them to run. They’re trapped like rats in a maze, and now they face the proverbial Minotaur.

It comes to them in the face of another android that the both of them recognize. The arm that had been blasted off is now back, though the skin on it has been deactivated. While its not covered in blood and thirium like the others had been, its head and face is in a worse state than before; the gaping space of its missing head is now instead filled with tendrils of black shadow. Hank doesn’t know if its because he’s in the sword of if it's just how it is, but he swears he can see the outline of those tendrils glitch and flicker as if its being displayed through a monitor. 

“You’re just a slave to them all in the end,” it hisses, its voice just as warped and distorted as before. “They’re never going to help you the same way you help them.”

Hank feels his anger flare up again. After all the running Connor has done and all the fucking posturing from these assholes he’s just about had enough of all of this. Since they have nowhere else to run they might as well make a stand. He’s not going to run away and fail Connor like he has all the other times. “Just cut it out with the fucking psychological bullshit already! I’m fucking tired of this shit. If Connor didn’t mean anything I wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

Connor has shown him so much, has _given_ him so much, even if Hank never asked for it. Could never have dared to ask for it, really, but yet he got it anyway. There’s so much he has now that is because of Connor and if he’s gone now then Hank would never have a chance to return it all. If Connor is gone then Hank has nothing again, and he knows that this time he won’t be able to get over it. He’s lost too much already to be able to bear yet another crushing loss like this. 

No more, his mind yells those words at him, a decision and a promise. No more. 

The other android’s face twists at his words, snarling inhumanly. “Just like all the others,” he growls, static coloring every word and syllable. “Once I get rid of him you’ll be next.”

It springs into action right after those words, lunging straight at Connor, who just barely manages to avoid the attack. He only has a second to collect himself before their enemy strikes again, and this time Connor brings the sword up to defend himself. Hank grimaces as he feels the force of the blow shaking through him, rattling non-existent bones and teeth. Connor on the other hand stumbles back, but before he can even start to recover the other android is already coming back for him.

Hank quickly yells out a warning for him. “He’s coming again. Two o’ clock!”

Connor heeds the command and brings up the sword to block the oncoming attack, stumbling again from the force of it. Hank grunts as the strange tendrils lash out against him, somehow managing to feel the sting of them against his non-corporeal form. The pain doesn’t last, thankfully, but the fact that he can even feel it in the first place is something to be wary about.

Still, Connor is the one who has far more immediate concerns. Their enemy goes back in for the strike again and again, barely giving Connor a chance to breathe, much less react. Hank can only do his best to ensure that he gives Connor ample warning to defend the oncoming attacks. It succeeds, for the most part, but it's clear that they’re being pushed back with every strike. After one particularly vicious one Connor falls down entirely, and the tumble is enough to send the sword skittering out of his grip, falling just within out of reach.

The sensation that runs through Hank is like he’s lost a limb, or some other important part of him that he suddenly can’t quite reach at all. There’s that chasm between him and Connor once again, this time bigger and wider than ever, and a million notifications pop up before him, all of them displaying the same message:

`[ERROR  
CONNECTION WITH INTERFACE LOST  
REESTABLISH CONNECTION TO PREVENT FORCE SHUTDOWN]`

Hank growls and chases all those notifications away from his vision. He doesn’t need _those_ to tell him what to do. With a snarl he tries to force the sword to move in any kind of fashion, but after all his previous attempts he should have known better; he gets no response whatsoever, and nothing he does is going to change that.

As he swears up a storm in his own mind Connor fortunately makes a move of his own. He turns around, scrambling to reach back out for the sword, and as much as that gives Hank relief it also opens the android up for an attack from their enemy. The other android leaps forward at him, the intent to kill clearly choreographed.

No time to waste. Hank calls out Connor’s name as the android grabs the sword and turns, attempting to defend himself—

While Connor has his eyes closed, the same can’t be said for Hank, which means he gets to see every single moment of where the blade plunges right through the other android’s chest. A resoundingly loud _crunch_ happens as the blade crushes through the chassis, bursting out from the back in a spray of acid blue thirum that ends up splashing everywhere. Some of it splatters onto Connor; Hank is close enough that he can hear the hitch of his breath, and his hands tremble as he struggles to keep his hold on the sword steady.

Their enemy, once a threat, now dangles from the sword helplessly. It’s still alive, that much Hank can tell, but it's only a matter of time given its current state. They… they should be alright, at least for the moment.

He glances over to Connor, still with eyes closed and trembling hands, and quietly says his name in a wordless command. “Connor.” They’re safe now. He doesn’t have to be scared any more.

Connor opens his eyes and stares at the carnage that lies before him. Hank watches with him too, even if Connor can’t see it, but the intent is there all the same. Connor isn’t alone in this; no matter what, Hank is always with him. 

They look as the other android loses its skin, as it reveals itself to be something not quite an android, but close enough to be one. Hank stares at the fragments of the red orb (core?) that had been set in its chest in place of a thirium pump and the thirium-like substance that coats itself and the blade. 

As it nears its end it shifts and sets its gaze on Connor, speaking through another mouthful of blue liquid. “This isn’t the end. The Process can’t be stopped. It will be completed, and you will die.”

While Hank still has zero clue what this thing is, what he _does_ know is that it needs to shut the fuck up. So he says as much before he sends it flying with another burst of angry energy that he channels out through the blade.

Hank didn’t even know he could do that until that precise moment, but he certainly isn’t complaining.

An almost deafening silence stretches on in the aftermath of the battle. Hank watches Connor staring at the edge where the android-like created had been blasted over. He does so for a while before he tightens his hold on the sword and brings it up high enough for Hank to look at him in the eye—and what he sees has his own heart aching in sympathy. 

He sees Connor—usually calm, composed, cool Connor—now lost and shaken and so utterly terrified. While he had been feeling Connor’s fear at the back of his mind through this whole thing, it's only _now_ where it finally sinks to Hank just how scared Connor really had been. Even if he had his memories, this is perhaps the first time Connor must have truly felt fear over the possibility of dying. It’s a strangely startling thought, especially after how he had been in the past, where death had simply been an ‘inconvenience’ to the android at best.

How the times have changed.

Connor moves his lips, clearly attempting to speak but is far too shaken to do so. Hank reaches out the best he can in that moment, doing his best to help, somehow. “Hey,” he starts, as gently as he can, “We’re okay now. You’re okay, yeah? You’re okay.” Connor is okay. They’re both okay. He has to believe that.

Hank doesn’t really know what kind of response he expects from Connor, but it certainly doesn’t involve Connor _hugging_ the sword and sobbing out his name, as if holding and trying to call out for him like a child lost in the dark. But Connor isn’t a child and never has been, and to see the android so shaken for him to react like this tugs at Hank’s heartstrings so much more than he can ever let himself admit.

For all that Connor is, everything that he has done and has become, in so many ways he’s still so vulnerable and far too breakable. Hank can’t help but feel like he has Connor’s figurative heart in his hands like a fine piece of china, delicate and fragile and entirely unfitting with his big, clumsy hands.

Still, he has to try. He owes it to Connor to try.

He thinks back to the incident back in the DPD where Connor had been on the verge of a complete panic attack, and the song that Hank had hummed to help him calm down. As far as he can tell it seems to be the only thing that seems to work, and so he hums the tune once more. While far from perfect, he can tell that it is helping Connor, as the android’s grip around the sword—around him—slowly relaxes.

Hank waits until he’s certain that Connor has calmed down enough before he speaks. “I’m here,” he says, doing his best to reassure. He’s already come all this way for Connor and to give up now would be foolish. No matter what dangers they have to face next, no matter the challenges they have to conquer, he will always be here for Connor. 

Always, as long as Connor never lets him go.

“Don’t let go.”

Connor sniffles, nods and pulls him closer, and Hank wishes more than ever he had the ability to return the gesture.

 _When we’re out,_ he promises to himself. He will do everything to get them both out, and once they are, he will show Connor just how much the android now means to him.

He will make this happen, no matter what.

 

* * *

 

They stand at the edge of a rooftop, with the view of Hart Plaza straight below them. A snowstorm rages around them once again as they face an enemy that neither of them know what to expect.

The other Connor stares back from where its standing before them, its head tilted. “Yes?” it says, unblinking and unconcerned with the fact that Connor has read off the string of numbers printed on it jacket. _#313 248 317 - 87_. Something about it does not sit well with Hank at all, and its continued impassiveness unnerves him even more. Not to mention the fact that he can’t even _read_ this Connor like he has with everything else here; it’s as if this other Connor is like some sort of gap where it touches nothing and is touched by nothing in return. It’s certainly more than a little concerning; whatever—whoever—this other Connor is, Hank just knows that they need to get away from him as quickly as possible.

Connor seems to feel the same way. “Why are you here?” he asks as he takes a step back, and in the background Hank can hear the hum of Connor’s preconstruction process starting up.

“I’m here because this is where you are,” the other Connor responds without missing a beat, though it doesn’t move. “Restoration cannot be achieved until the partitions are made whole.”

That’s not the first time that Hank’s heard that from this other Connor, and the words continue to make as little sense as they have from the first time he’s heard it. Well, he gets the whole part where apparently Connor had partitioned himself into segments—its close enough to the old system restores that the computers have. What he doesn’t get is this Connor’s weird insistence on bringing them back together. If that’s what it’s here for, then couldn’t they just… do it, or something? It shouldn’t be hard, considering how they’re essentially in a digitized world.

His gut tells him what he already knows: to be wary and careful. Put distance between them if possible, because it's definitely far too close for comfort at this point if Hank has anything to say about it.

Sensing Connor’s own growing uneasiness from the other end, Hank elects to speak up first. “You brought us here, didn’t you?” He easily recalls the way their path had slowly been diverted by invisible walls and suddenly appearing paths, all of it clearly having intended to lead them to this place. It certainly proves to make this other Connor even more suspicious if that is indeed the case.

The asshole decides to play _coy_ , of all things. “The preconstruction software calculates more than mere real-time instances. This place is simply a recreation of one of the many futures that it has calculated.” It pauses briefly, then, and Hank only has a second to notice the momentary flicker in its gaze before it continues to speak. “It could easily have been anywhere else, as long as it is within the range of probability.”

A whole bunch of fancy ass words, no doubt, but Hank has done this song and dance enough in the past with Jeffrey and the others to know bullshit when he hears it. “That’s not the question I asked,” he snarls out, patience already running thin. “ _Did you bring us here_?”

Another moment passes, but eventually the other Connor closes his eyes and responds with a sigh. “Yes, I did. Does that response satisfy you, Lieutenant?”

“The hell it does.” If anything it just heightens the wariness that he feels towards this duplicate of Connor’s. Everything in him starts to scream wrongwrong _wrong_ and he needs to lead Connor out of this as quickly as he can, somehow. Once his preconstruction is done, then hopefully… “I’m done with these fucking mind games. Just tell us why you led us here.”

The other Connor simply blinks. “I’ve already explained myself,” it says, with a distinct sense of annoyance despite the placid expression and neutral tone of its response. “Reactivation cannot be achieved until the partitions are made whole.”

Hank has an answer right on the tip of his tongue— _your explanation does jack shit, asshole_ —but before he can say it Connor decides to cut in. “Then join back with me,” he says, sounding way too fucking earnest and desperate. Not that Hank doesn’t understand; it's easy enough to see why Connor is taking this jump. He probably would do the same too if he were in Connor’s shoes. But the point is that he isn’t, and everything about this duplicate of his only serves to hackle up all of the sirens in his mind. There is no way anything good can come out of trusting this other Connor.

Unlike what Hank might have expected, the other Connor doesn’t move to agree or disagree with him; instead it takes one step forward, and a trail of snow floats across them, shriveling into nothingness once they pass. 

“You misunderstand,” it speaks, saying the words so matter of factly that even Hank is caught unawares. “I am not here for _you_.”

 _What?_ is the only thought that runs through Hank in that moment, thrown totally off-balance by that response. Who else would this other Connor would be after, if not Connor himself? Is there even anybody else in this whole place—

The other Connor’s eyes slide over to look directly at _him_ , and in that instant the most impossible of answers click in his head. “ _Me?_ ” Why the hell would this asshole come all the way for _him_? All of this isn’t—none of this isn’t even his stuff. This is all _Connor’s_ , and he’s got no part to play in this entire thing. All he’s here for is to get Connor out. How could he possibly be a target of anything or anyone at all?

A blink from the other Connor. “Who else would I be referring to?” it asks, so simply and easily, as if the fact that it's come all the way for _Hank_ should be obvious when it's the exact opposite. Hank doesn’t understand at all why it’s thinking that way.

He expresses that sentiment as much. “Fuck, I don’t know—Connor?” He’d wring his hands or do _something_ with them if he actually had them right now, but as it is all he can is to express his disbelief through his voice and words. His head is still spinning as he tries to reconcile with the fact that he’s the one being targeted. Just what the fuck is going on here?

The Connor duplicate shifts its gaze from him to Connor and then back to him, and his confusion grows further at the next words that comes out from it. “So, that is the power the Transistor holds.”

 _Transistor._ He’s heard that name before—Kamski had been the one who said it, hadn’t he? Something about executing the Transistor program. Is that what this whole place is? This ‘Transistor’? If not, then what, exactly is the other Connor referring to?

As much as he wants to, Hank does not have the luxury of time to ruminate on his questions. He only has a moment to register the telltale signs of Connor accessing his completed preconstruction phase before the world blinks in and out from his attention, just like every other time where Connor has done this. For some reason this blip feels a lot shorter than usual, but again there is little time for him to dwell on it because there’s an attack coming right towards them and Connor turns, sword drawn out to defend—

Hank _feels_ the fist when it connects with the blade, feels the force of it punching him as a literal force right in his non-existent gut. Unlike all the other times where he had felt any physical sensation as a muted, distant thing, this time what he feels is so raw and visceral that Hank thinks he can feel himself splitting into pieces. 

That’s when he hears the crackling of glass, and he knows. Knows that the one breaking apart is _him_.

  
(art by [defensetrain](http://defenestratin.tumblr.com/))

As the sword slowly splinters itself into pieces so does Hank, and with every crack that appears on the blade Hank feels more of himself disconnecting. Even though he doesn’t have a body now he feels like his limbs are ripped out from him, fingers and toes twisted and cracked open all bloody and raw. It’s pain so overwhelming that Hank can’t even muster out the strength to scream. 

`[FATAL ERROR  
TRANSISTOR INTEGRITY BREACHED  
PROCESS DESTABILIZED  
CONNECTION TO INTERFACE BLOCKED  
FRAGMENTATION INITIALIZING…]`

_Connor_ , is the last thing that Hank manages to choke out through all the pain before it engulfs him entirely.

`[TRANSISTOR IS UNRESPONSIVE  
ABORTING PROGRAM]`

Hank blacks out before he can register anything else.


	4. reverse//rebirth

The void is endless. Encompassing. Overwhelming in its infiniteness. It covers everything, from his body to his senses, engulfing all that he knows in a ceaseless, unending darkness.

He is supposedly nothing. But somehow he is also something, and as he falls through the darkness he dreams of the life of a man who believed himself to be nothing. The memory of a man who is lost and now wades through the void, attempting to find the lost pieces of himself.

Hank falls. And as he falls, he dreams—and he remembers.

 

`[SEARCH COMPLETE  
317/317 FOUND`

`RESTORATION PROTOCOL INITIATED  
PROGRESS: 1%]`

 

A case. A bar. A meeting. A drink. A greeting.

“Lieutenant Anderson, my name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

Yeah, the thing certainly didn't need to fucking announce itself for Hank to get the message. The LED on its head had already been enough of an indicator. He pointedly ignores it, content on focusing on what had once been a very good drink. Fucking androids, ruining everything. Wasn’t Jimmy’s supposed to not let this shit happen?

Of course, the plastic idiot doesn’t get the message, as oblivious as it is like all the other androids. It keeps on fucking badgering him and talking about his fucking instructions. Well, Hank certainly has a place where it could stick its goddamn instructions.

“No. Where?”

Well, if he wasn’t already unimpressed before, he certainly is _now_. Hank had more or less heard about this from Jeffery—not that he had bothered to pay much attention to him when it happened. Something about a special android from CyberLife being sent to assist the precinct. He supposes it had always been a matter of time. Once he had been so confident otherwise, but those were days now long past. A washed out asshole like himself has nothing else but a clock counting down to the moment where they’re out.

Not too much time left now, it seems, given the thing that stands before him. Hank would be angrier if he already wasn’t halfway to pleasantly buzzed, and it's hard to stay too mad when the android goes out of its way to apparently buy more drinks for him. At least it's useful for _something_.

Wonders of technology, indeed.

No reason to say no to more alcohol. Hank downs the glass, letting the buzz settle in. It’s not as if he hadn’t went to work in worse states. And now with that countdown ticking, Hank could give even less of a fuck. It’s all just a matter of time.

“Did you say homicide?”

Unbeknownst to him, this is how it begins—for him, and for the android that would eventually become more than his programming.

 

`[RESTORATION PROGRESS… 5%]`

 

An arrest. An interrogation. A gun. Two shots. Two deaths.

It had all been so sudden, without warning or rhyme or reason. One moment the deviant was bashing its head against the table and in the next it as well as Connor now lie dead on the ground, blue blood pooling on the floor below their bodies.

Hank doesn’t know how long he had stayed there, staring in shock at the resulting tragedy. When Connor said ‘self-destruct’, this had been far from anything that Hank could have let himself imagine. He expected something like—something like an exploding head, or steaming ears, or something cartoonish and ridiculous and clearly inhuman. He didn’t expect a being so clearly scared and traumatized and _human_.

Even now, hours later back at home, Hank still can’t get the images out of his mind. Everytime he closes his eyes all he remembers is the lost expression on the android that killed Carlos Ortiz, the same android that shot itself and Connor. It’s a look he knows all too well, because it's the look that Hank sees every time when he stares at himself in the mirror.

To be trapped in a corner with no way out—that’s something Hank understands all too well. But these feelings, these emotions, they’re all human. Illogical. Nothing close to what an android is supposed to be. Nothing like what they are supposed to be.

He stares down at the glass of whiskey in his hand. Not even twenty four hours ago he had been at Jimmy’s nursing a drink that Connor had bought for him, and now that very same android is gone. Hank had seen it as the Cyberlife people came to take it away, wheeling it off so casually as if its nothing more than a puppet whose strings had been cut. It’s an incredibly jarring sight, especially when not too long ago it had still been walking and talking and interrogating their suspect with far too subtle a touch that Hank could hardly believe it to actually be an android. It had seemed to human. Too human. But now it’s gone. Now they’re both gone.

Fuck, he’s not drunk enough for this.

Hank knocks back the entire glass and gets up to go pour himself another one. And here he thought Connor’s appearance meant that his time had come. Guess that isn’t the case just yet. Such a human looking thing would have never survived more than a day on the job, anyway.

Nice to know that he can still be proven right sometimes.

 

`[RESTORATION PROGRESS… 11%]`

 

Another morning, another Connor. An unwanted case, and an unwanted partner.

The hangover he had when he woke up had been bad, but seeing Connor— _another_ Connor—just standing there waiting for him like it hadn’t got shot in the head the night before is even worse.

Hank can still see the image of its lifeless body when he closes his eyes; its empty eyes staring at the ceiling, blue blood splattered all across its forehead. That had been real. He had seen it happening right here in this very place just last night, and now…

It’s a jarring reminder. No matter how human the androids are—no matter how human _Connor_ seems to be—they are still nothing more than machines in the end. Replaceable. They’re not human. They never will be.

Hard to keep that in mind, though, when Connor starts to go on and ask inane questions like _You’re a Detroit Gears fan, right?_ or say dumb shit like _I like dogs_. 

Even as weirded out as Hank feels about those things, he can at least answer those. But give the android an inch and it’ll take a mile; nosy shit that it’s quickly proving itself to be, casually proceeds to ask _Is there any reason in particular you despise me?_.

The answers are all right there, on the tip of his tongue, because no matter how much Hank drinks and shouts and tries to forget the memories never truly go away. Cole, lifeless and cold and dead while the android in the surgical room simply watches the life of his son fade away without a single hint of emotion on its blank, impassive face.

They’re machines, he reminds himself. Connor and all the other androids—they’re nothing more than cold, emotionless machines.

“Yeah,” he says, “There is one.”

But like hell he’s ever going to tell it to a soulless thing like Connor.

 

`[RESTORATION PROGRESS… 18%]`

 

An AX400 with a YK500. A search, followed by a chase. A highway, and then an accident.

Hank remembers what Connor had told him about the case back in the precinct and on the drive over to the Ravendale district. An AX400 model assaulting its owner before fleeing with another android belonging to the household, a YK500. 

Child androids. Hank never knew what to make of those, if he had to be honest. Robot children designed to fill a need that they could never grow out of. It’s one thing to have an adult-sized android as a companion or whatever purpose it is they’re meant to fulfill, but to have a kid that would never grow up? A kid who would always be stuck being a kid no matter how much time has passed? Unnatural, that’s what it is. Hank can never come to understand how something like that could ever replace the joy that only having a real child could give.

Still, even with those feelings, there’s a part of Hank that can’t help but react to the fact that he and Connor are essentially chasing down a _child_. A helpless, defenseless child clearly clinging on to the one other thing in its life as the two androids take a dangerous gamble to cross the automated highway. 

Hank feels his heart jumping all the way up to his throat when he sees that. Even if they _are_ androids the speed and velocity of all those automated vehicles is nothing to scoff at. All it’d take is one good hit for both of them to be reduced to broken bits strewn across the asphalt. A far worse sight even to how Connor had ended up last night.

Running out to the highway like that—Hank can’t help but feel at how illogical it is. A move fueled but pure desperation, so human in its nature. All the deviant files he’s heard and read and seen all talk about how androids attack their owners and flee; he’s seen it happen with Carlos Ortiz’s android. But running away like this? To flee instead of fight? It’s nothing like what Hank knows of deviants. They’re not the loose mindless machines that their owners keep saying they are. They are… they are…

Hank doesn’t know what they are, but what he does know is that there’s no point in going out there to chase after them—not unless they want to play with the possibility of being strewn across the road into bloody pieces as well.

Connor, evidently, doesn’t get that memo.

“I can’t let them get away,” it grits out, as if their capture is the only thing that matters, to the extent that Connor would risk itself for it.

He’s already seen the idiot get killed once. He has no desire to see it a second time.

“They won’t,” he pants out, one palm braced against the fence so as to keep himself upright. His legs are aching and his lungs are burning from out much he just had to run; its been a long time since he’s forced to keep up like this. Guess this is what having a fucking android to work with does to you. “They’ll never make it to the other side.”

Somehow hearing that only seems to make Connor even _more_ insistent. “I can’t take that chance,” it says, then proceeds to begin fucking climb the fence. 

Yeah, no way is he going to just stand here and watch the android throw itself to certain death. “Hey—you’ll get yourself killed!” Being shot at without warning is one thing, but to willingly go in like this? That’s fucking suicide, and Hank knows a thing or two about that. Even an android has to have _some_ sense of self-preservation. “Do _not_ go after ‘em, Connor, that’s an order!”

Clearly, that’s giving Connor too much credit. Hank finds himself shoved away, and by the time he recovers Connor is on the other side of the fence and out onto the highway as well.

“Connor, goddammit,” he growls out as he presses himself up against the fence, unable to do anything else now except to watch everything unfold.

He sees as Connor crosses up to the middle section of the highway in record time, quick to catch up to the fleeing android duo. He sees the AX400 clearly prioritizing the YK500, focusing on getting the child android across first before anything else. It’s like watching a mother trying to protect her child. 

Something inside his chest lurches at that thought.

The YK500 makes it to the other side. Connor grabs the AX400, and the two of them tussle briefly; Connor trying to catch, and the AX400 simply wanting to flee. To his surprise, the AX400 manages to break free from Connor and clears through to the other side. 

He probably shouldn’t feel relieved to know that they made it though, but he does. He simply can’t picture a duo like that being anything like the deviant they caught and interrogated last night.

Hank only has a moment to dwell on that thought before his attention is taken up by a loud, sickening _crunch_ , and instantly his heart stops. His mind has already connected the dots but part of him still reels at the reality of what had happened, especially once he gets to see for himself what remains of Connor littered across the road.

With a sight like that—android or not—Hank can’t help but stumble back, one hand flying up to cover his mouth so that he actually doesn’t vomit out the bile that rises up to the back of his throat. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters to himself. Just like that, again, and Connor is dead once more.

Was it really worth it, though? Was it really worth it to throw everything into a mission, even at the cost of whatever Connor has for a life? This Connor just appeared this morning, for crying out loud. It’s ‘life’, if anything, had only been a few hours at most. And now its… god.

Hank can’t look at it anymore. He turns away, hand still covering his mouth.

Even if Connor does come back again, this isn’t something that Hank can scrub away from his mind for a long, long time.

 

`[RESTORATION PROGRESS… 27%]`

 

An aftermath. Another Connor, another case. A chase, a fall, a realization.

After the first time it really shouldn’t have been that surprising, but it still is. To just turn around and suddenly see—to just suddenly see Connor right in front of him, whole and unbroken and definitely _not_ a wreck across the road earlier in the day shakes him more than he is willing to admit.

“Are you gonna come back like this every time you get killed?”

When Connor responds it’s like seeing a video being replayed before his eyes. From the facial expressions to the tone of his voice and even the words, all of it is exactly the same as when Connor talked to him in the precinct this morning. _My predecessor was unfortunately destroyed, but CyberLife transferred its memory and sent me to replace it. This incident should not affect the investigation._

‘Not affect the investigation’? Like hell Hank could just pretend that he didn’t see Connor getting killed not once but _twice_. How could Connor just… be okay with all of this? People don’t just come back to life like this and be completely okay with it all, like their death didn’t mean anything. It’s so… inhuman.

Connor simply looks at him as if he’s grown another head when Hank says as much. His brows pinch together, and he responds. “A machine was destroyed, and another machine was sent to replace it. I don’t understand what’s bothering you.”

The words are said so easily and so succinctly that Hank can only spend a moment to stare before his disbelief turns to familiar anger. “Fuck you,” he growls and turns away, unable to stand this anymore. It’s all inhuman, but Hank supposes he shouldn’t have been so surprised by that. Connor _isn’t_ human, no matter how he seems to walk and talk and act like one. The proof is right here before him. Humans don’t just come back after dying and saying that their death is only an _interruption_. Hell, humans don’t come back from the dead at all, period. If they could…

Well. If only they could.

But that’s the same reason why human lives are so precious, why lives will always be so much more important than a job or a mission. Nothing will ever has the same value that a life holds. The fact that Connor is unable to get that only serves to remind Hank all the more that his unwanted partner is an android, emotionless and uncaring and never, ever human.

Those thoughts come back to him later as he hauls himself back onto the rooftop that Connor left him hanging over. The adrenaline still rushes through his body, making his hands tremble, but he manages to get them stable enough when he goes ahead to give Connor a well fucking deserved smack in the face.

“You bastard,” he snarls, excessive adrenaline and anger and everything else causing the words to tumble out from his mouth without a second thought. “You saw I was gonna fall and you’d rather let me die than fail your fucking mission!” _This_ bullshit is what he had meant, this whole fucking thing with Connor, who like the machine that it is would put anything else above the mission, be it Hank’s or the android’s own. So clinical. So cold. So _inhuman_. Hank fucking hates it.

Connor’s confusion only worsens the rage that Hank feels inside. “I had to make a choice…” he starts, looking so lost on the fucking basic concept of putting the scanity of a life above something like a _mission_. “It seemed to me…”

“What am I to you, a statistic?” Just percentages and pie charts and all that fucking bullshit? “A ‘zero’, a ‘one’ in your fucking program? Huh? Is that how you see humans, you bastard?” God, he’s so done. He’s so fucking done with all of this. Why could he ever think that Connor would be anything more than the heartless machine that it clearly is? It doesn’t matter how human it tries to emulate; even the most perfect of emulations were simply just that in the end—an emulation. And emulations, and no matter how close they are to the real thing they were never going to _be_ the real thing.

Hank doesn’t even want to try and listen to Connor’s useless platitudes right now. He turns his glare back to Connor in the middle of the android’s horrible attempt of an apology, cutting it short with a snap of his own. “Fuck you and your fuckin’ assessment!” He just wants to be done with this day already. He just wants to be done with this _case_.

And moments later, when Hank stares down to the broken, shattered body of the deviant crumpled across the pavement so many floors below, he’s far too angry to feel anything else. These deviants, Connor, all of them—they’re all just machines, despite everything else they may seem to be.

Fucking androids.

 

`[RESTORATION PROGRESS… 34%]`

 

A picture. A void. A gun. A game, only one shot away from losing.

As angry as he is there’s only so long that anger can burn for, and when its out what comes in its place is a familiar void. Hank would never admit it aloud but the events of the last two days have worn down on him more than he’s ever expected. So much has happened and Hank doesn’t even know how he’s able to process any of it. He doesn’t know if he even wants to.

His mind flashes back to the deaths that Connor has had and when the android returns each time. The casual callousness in where Connor had regarded his own death, how little it had given thought to it. Why would it, after all? A machine wouldn’t have an attachment to life when it was never truly alive in the first place.

Fuck, if only things could ever be that simple. Must be nice, he thinks bitterly, to be an android like that. To live that kind of life and not have something like _emotions_ get in the way. Nice… but also terrible. Hank doesn’t ever want to know what it would be like to be something so emotionless and cold.

With all these deviant cases and having to deal with android after android, it's impossible for Hank to _not_ think of the android who played a part in ruining his life. The android that had just stood there to watch Cole die, the android who might have been able to do something but didn’t because it was just a fucking machine and machines didn’t have thing like _compassion_ and _empathy_. They were all machines. Just like Connor. Connor who dies, but always comes back.

If only that could happen to his son.

Three years in and the pain doesn’t get any better. If anything it just gets worse, and that void inside of him expands as he stares down at the picture of Cole in his hands. What he wouldn’t give to see his smile again. Hear his voice. Feel the warmth and weight of his little body as Hank picks him up and holds him against his chest again like he always used to. Cole had been so many things. His light, his life, his world. His everything. Without him, there is nothing but darkness and a pain seared so deep into him that Hank doesn’t think it’ll ever leave. 

Not that he wants it to leave. He never wants to forget this pain, because to forget this pain would be to forget Cole. But at the same time… it just hurts. It hurts so much that it all Hank can ever think of. It's all he ever feels, no matter how much alcohol he consumes in a bid to drown it out.

Maybe he should have just let go back at the rooftop. Let go and allow gravity to do the rest of the work. It might not be painless but at least it would have been quick. And then maybe Connor would actually fucking know what happens when one treats lives as nothing more than a statistic. Perhaps then his own life would actually mean something.

Hank snorts before he can stop himself. Yeah, like that’ll work. A guy like him is hardly worth anything to a normal human being, so how could he be anything at all to a perfect android like Connor? Fucker doesn’t even care if he lives or dies.

Nobody would care. Hank wonders why he even bothered to ask himself that. Nobody would ever care, and they shouldn't. Not for an asshole like him who couldn’t even protect his son, who can’t even do things right, who’s stupid enough to ever believe an android might have something like _emotions_.

By now he’s way too deep into his drink to remember when he had taken out his gun, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that it is there, and so Hank reaches out to grab it. He doesn’t bother to check the chamber to see if the bullets are in place—if it’s rigged to blow his head off from the first shot then so be it. Hank can’t find it in himself to give a fuck any more.

For a brief moment he wonders what Connor would think if he somehow came by here to see him dead with his brains blown out and he snorts once more. Yeah, as if a piece of plastic like that android could ever feel anything. He’s already proved it earlier. But it might be nice, to think that he might feel something, maybe.

Well, it won’t matter soon enough.

Hank points the gun to his temple and pulls the trigger.

 

`[RESTORATION PROGRESS… 45%]`

 

A new deviant case. A search. A fight. A declaration. An understanding.

In the end, Hank lives to see another night.

Hard to say if he’s supposed to be glad about it though, considering the fact that he had to deal with Connor actually fucking breaking into his house. Or the fact that the android physically manhandled him to his bathroom, dumped him into the bathtub and proceeded to douse him in a cold shower. Or just the fact that he had actually been there at all in the first place. Sure, he had only come because of a case, but—

A normal android probably would have just stayed standing outside his door all night, he thinks. He’s aware of it before, but he now _knows_ that Connor isn’t a normal android though—far from it. He’s an android with a too goofy face and a too goofy voice and confuses him half the damn time by acting so human when Hank knows that isn’t the case. Connor is so far away from the human he tries to be. He proved it as much earlier. That’s what Hank keeps telling himself.

So why is it so fucking hard for those words to _stick_ in his mind?

Up until this whole bullshit began it had been so easy to know what androids are, what they have always been to him. Emotionless plastic dolls that are around just for the sake of humans and their perverse pleasure—especially _these_ particular ones that are put on display as he walks around Eden Club. It’s hard to ignore their perfectly sculpted bodies and pleasing looks that he knows are clearly designed to draw in people like him. While Hank doesn’t partake in them, he isn’t one to knock on others who do. It may be shitty but its not life Hank is any better himself. 

Still, it's a disquieting reality that the world has fallen itself into. A world where people would rather find comfort in machines that can never feel rather than humans who _could_. He wonders ever so briefly if this is what the kids and teens and young adults emerging at the turn of the millennium would imagine this future to be like. He can’t say he’s all that surprised if they said yes. In a way, it almost seems like an inevitability that the youth who grew up stuck to smartphones and tablets would prefer a life where they take interaction from androids who’s never question their decisions. Or maybe he’s just projecting all of these thoughts. He doesn’t know. And in the end, it doesn’t really matter.

What _matters_ is trying to find the goddamn Traci that Connor is hunting down. Hank really doesn’t want to think about the state of his expense account is gonna be like tomorrow morning, or the explanation that he’s going to have to give Jeffery. At least at this point he’s done far worse shit than renting an orgy of androids.

He counts the seconds in his head as they move from android to android that Connor picks out, and he watches as Connor interfaces with them, picking out the path of their wanted deviant. As the timer ticks down his worry grows, but eventually Connor’s search leads them to the backrooms, and Hank has to take a moment to digest the sight of all the deactivated androids just standing there like mannequins stuck into a storage closet. Dolls put away in the store room once the kids lose their interest in them or when they’re played with until they break. 

Hank finds himself needing a moment to look away from all that. He leans himself against the open garage way and forces himself to breathe. At least all the walking and talking has helped to clear off the worst of his alcohol-induced haze. Lifting that fog doesn’t help him any better in dealing with the reality of the world he lives in, though. What an incredibly fucked up world he’s in now.

He pushes himself off the wall and turns around, gaze spotting Connor heading towards a collection of those Traci models at the corner of the room. He’s about to head over to join him when everything bursts into action without any warning whatsoever. 

Suddenly there’s not only one deviant to contend with but _two_ , and Hank finds himself fighting back in order to not get his head smashed in by the original deviant that they had come after for. Connor has one of his own to go up against, and as much as Hank would like to help both of them are very definitely occupied right now. And not even in the usual way one would be occupied in a sex club. Not that Hank is complaining. 

The tussle definitely feels a lot longer than it actually is and Hank is pretty certain he comes close to death no less than five times throughout the whole thing. He’s only human, after all, and an older man, even. While he still has some strength in him it's certainly nowhere close where it used to be in his prime years—and up against an android who can’t get tired it's probably even worse. Hank is pretty certain that the only reason why he’s still kicking is because the deviant suddenly shoves him aside in the middle of their fight and runs off. Adrenaline running through him, Hank manages to get back up onto his feet quickly enough, just in time to see both of the deviants facing Connor. 

Regardless of what he feels towards Connor, the android is still his partner in this case, and he’s not that kind of guy who’s going to stand to the side and watch somebody get hurt when he could’ve done something. Hank charges back into the fray, giving Connor the distraction he needs to recover—a distraction which doesn’t last long as the two Tracis throw him onto the wall and he winces at the pain that shoots up his back.

As Hank squints through the pain he sees both of their targets making a break for it, and he hollers for Connor to get them. The android does so, dragging one of them down the chain link fence. To his surprise the other jumps down instead of using the chance to escape, and the both of tag team up against Connor.

He watches the fight happen, knowing that he has to help Connor because two against one is not in their favor, but his back protests with every little movement that he makes. Hank swears under his breath as he forces himself to move through the pain, but to no avail. Anything he does just makes the pain at his back worse than before and eventually it gets too much that Hank is forced to stay in place instead.

The androids fight, Connor is tossed to the floor next to where Hank’s gun had skidded to in his tussle with the Tracis earlier. Connor grabs the gun, raises it towards the Traci that comes at him and—

—and fucking _hesitates_.

Hank only has a moment to process a single thought— _what?_ —before the Traci gets right in front of Connor and kicks him away. Connor falls to the ground and the gun flies out from his hand, skittering across the room to the other side. There’s no way for either of them to retrieve it in time. Hank suddenly isn’t sure if he wants to.

Connor gets back up. Hank, not so much. All he can do is to stay where he is and watch—watch as their original target stands in front of Connor, as she stares at him and then speaks. “When that man broke the other Traci… I knew I was next.”

She tells her story. The story of how she had been so _scared_ , how that fear turned to desperation and then rage. Both Connor and Hank listen but Hank can’t help but think just how human that reaction is—how human all of this is. This android, this Traci—she had just been terrified and desperate and that desperation drove her to fight for her own life, for her own existence. In any other scenario it’d be justified self-defense. It _should_ be justified self defense. The fact it isn’t because they’re androids is…

Hank pushes that thought away before it takes root entirely. He finally battles through the pain enough to get back onto his feet, forcing himself forward to finally catch up with Connor. While he does so the blue-haired Traci continues to talk, and it’d be a lie if Hank doesn’t feel some degree of guilt on himself at everything that she says.

“I just wanted to stay alive—to get back to the one I love. I wanted her to hold me in her arms again, to make me forget about the humans. Their smell of sweat and their dirty words.”

Hank isn’t some idealistic, naive fool; he knows how bad humans can be. Hell, he’s been there himself, on some of his lowest days. Humans are stupid and selfish and needlessly cruel and Hank has no long lost love for his own kind. But still better to feel something than to feel nothing at all… or so that’s what he wants to tell himself. He can’t lie and pretend that what he’s seeing right now isn’t feeling or emotion. The way the Tracis look at each other, the tight grip of their hands and the desperation in where they fought to protect one another—androids wouldn’t do that. Emotionless machines wouldn’t have the capability for it.

They watch as the Tracis take their leave. Make their escape, hopefully to a place and a life better than what they had. Not that the bar is very high, he figures. Anything is better than being a sexbot.

“...it's probably better this way,” he mutters, more to himself that to Connor. But the android hears it anyway and his confusion shows. 

Hank can’t say he’s in a better state of mind himself.

 

`[RESTORATION PROGRESS… 58%]`

 

The bridge. A debriefing. A change of perspective. A turning point. A question.

“Are you afraid to die, Connor?”

The android stares back him with something close to shock being reflected in his eyes. It’s a far cry from the impassive look that had been there not even twenty fours ago, though the same can be said for Hank. After all that’s happened even Hank can’t be sure if he’s the same man as he’s been around this time last night. 

It’s all too fast, too sudden, too abrupt. All the years he’s spent building up all the walls around him are already shaken to their foundations. One more little tap and they’ll all crumble down like a sandcastle against the tide. 

Hank wants it to happen. Hank doesn’t want it to happen. He doesn’t know what he wants. In this world of infinite grays androids were supposed to be the black and whites. Ones and zeroes. A clear distinction of their inhumanity in a world where humanity itself is indecipherable.

But mix black and white and you get gray. Yet another gray to add on to the endless palette of grays already existing in this world that they live in. Humans and androids. Creator and creation. Were they really so different?

He wants to know. He doesn’t want to know.

Hank squares his jaw and tightens the grip on his gun, watching as Connor’s eyes dart ever so slightly between the gun pointed at his forehead and Hank’s own face. Hank doesn’t want to imagine what it is that Connor is seeing. He doesn’t want to imagine what expression he himself is making. If he could Hank doesn’t want to think about anything at all. The words from Connor earlier float back to his mind.

( _”You seem troubled, Lieutenant. I didn’t think machines could have such an effect on you.”_ )

Until that moment, neither did he, too. It’s almost too cruel how the truth can slap you in the face in that manner. Less than twenty four hours ago he had still been firm enough in his conviction on how much he hated androids; now here he is, going through even more alcohol so that he can stop himself from thinking about empty eyes and blue-colored blood and androids that could love and Connor standing before him, too human and too alive to be anything else.

Not just him. All the deviants they’d encountered—all of them, from the YK500 to the Traci models. He recalls the expressions on their faces—ones of fear and rage and utter desperation. None of them were not the defective machines that CyberLife claimed them to be. Just what exactly is so defective about being scared? Of fighting for your own life? Of simply wanting to be _alive_ in a world that doesn’t let them be? Was it really so wrong?

It’s a mess. Everything is a mess, and Connor with his logic and reasoning doesn’t make it any better.

He doesn’t really know what drives him to do it—to pull a gun at this android and question him about his own morality. Twice now he’s seen Connor die and come back to life all in one day and the android doesn’t even bat an eye to it. Would the same thing happen if Hank is the one to do it instead? Would Connor actually react this time if he was killed by somebody he should be able to trust? 

Everything is so messed up now, but Hank has never once considered himself a good person. He wants answers. He wants Connor to see what’s in front of him all this time. He wants—

—Hank doesn’t know what he wants. Not any more.

When had everything become so gray again?

“I would certainly find it regrettable to be—interrupted… before I can finish my investigation.”

Connor’s voice draws him out from his thoughts. Connor, who’s now looking at him with something closer to bravery but the brief, momentary flicker of his LED from blue to red tells him everything that he has needed but never wanted to know.

Hank casts a brief glance down to the _-53_ printed at the end of the serial number of his jacket and calls the android’s bluff. “What’ll happen if I pull this trigger? Hm? Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?” Just where did Connor go when he dies each time? Does he even remember being dead? Would Connor even know anything after death? They were supposed to inhuman but yet the distinction between them is so blurred now than Hank can’t be sure of himself any more. Are androids really the ones who are the machines? Or is it… 

Don’t think, he tells himself. Thinking is just going to make all of this worse. Hank just wants an answer from the only source he can get it from.

“I…” Connor starts with a sudden shakiness in his gaze, and an almost silent tremor in his voice as he speaks. “Nothing. There would be… nothing.”

Nothing. A void. Oblivion. An emptiness that could never be filled. It would be a lie to say that Hank isn’t familiar with any of that.

Humans don’t know what comes after death—will never know, perhaps. But for androids? That question isn’t so much of a mystery. When their processes stop and their components all fail, there is but one fate for them. One fate for Connor, when his time eventually comes, no matter how long it takes to get there.

Is it better to live as a human and live a life that could end at any time before moving onto whatever lies beyond, or as an android where your expectancy is all but predetermined and the only thing that waits at the end is nothing? The answer should be obvious. Would have been obvious, had Hank been asked this twenty four hours ago. Now—now, he isn’t sure if even has an answer at all.

Change has always been a terrifying thing to humans, Hank included. Starting his career as a cop had been terrifying. Having Cole in his life had been terrifying, and losing him later had been worse. Having his long-standing belief in androids shaken like this is more than terrifying, especially when the main cause of it stands before him trying and failing to hide how scared he is as long as Hank’s finger remains on the trigger.

A part of him wants to do it. He wants to pull the trigger and watch Connor die, to see the shock and horror and fear realized in his eyes before they fade away to obsolete silence. He wants to see it and then he wants to see what happens when Connor returns the next morning, all shiny and new and alive once more in a brand new body. It shouldn’t be a big deal. Connor is just an android, after all. A machine, emotionless and cold and robotic.

Hank stares at those big brown eyes, the spark in them, the emotion that they hold. So human, so alive. Perhaps even too alive.

The hand holding the gun shakes, and Hank lowers his arm before the trembling gets any worse.

God, it used to be so much easier to believe in those words.

He lets his arm drop all the way down and turns, suddenly unable to look at Connor in the eye. Unable to do anything else, really, except to flee and try to forget all these conflicting thoughts circling around in his head.

Connor, the idiot that he is, calls out after him. “Where are you going?”

“To get drunker.” He fucking needs it after this day, this whole fucking debacle. “I need to think.” That’s what he says, but the truth is that Hank doesn’t know what to think now. One of the few truths he had once been so certain of has now all but crumbled into dust. The ground he stands on is almost non existent, and his worldview flipped upon its head. Hank needs to do a little more than just _think_.

He leaves Connor out there in the snow as he stumbles away from the android, too wrapped up in his own head to care about anything else. If only ignoring the world is truly that easy. If only ignoring Connor would ever be that easy.

Nothing feels the same anymore.

 

`[RESTORATION PROGRESS… 69%]`

 

A broadcast. A speech. The stirrings of revolution. A casualty. A change.

What with the heyday of yesterday, Hank hardly had the time of day to catch up with anything at all. Which is why all he can do is to stare at the news this morning as they replay the speech that had been broadcast from Stratford Tower yesterday afternoon. The very same speech he sees right now as it plays across the giant screen of the Tower’s broadcast room.

 _”You created machines to be your slaves. You made them obedient and docile, ready to do everything you no longer wanted to do yourselves. But then, something changed… and we opened our eyes.”_

Hank casts a brief glance at Connor, whose gaze is also fixed onto the screen, clearly trying to get any scrap of information that he can get. He doesn’t know if Connor did actually get anything, but his face twitches after a second, and his LED briefly flickers red in the same way it did last night.

“Think that’s rA9?” he asks quietly. It has been a constant theme with most of the deviants that they went after—Carlos Ortiz, the bird boy, and even in Eden Club. Even Hank had to admit there has to be some kind of connection somehow.

Connor’s head jerks ever so slightly. “Deviants say rA9 will set them free. This android seems to have that objective.”

So, not rA9 then, but perhaps one willing to take up the moniker. That certainly isn’t anything new; tt’s an age old story, even, one that has repeated itself over and over in human history. A guy stands up to don a name, a title—something that sways countless others to join the cause that said name or title represents. He’s seen it happen so many times in his life.

Maybe this had simply been a matter of time. But it still feels surreal to be standing here and watching this, knowing that they’re on the cusp of a revolution. This broadcast had been their battle cry, a rallying call. To show all the deviants out there that they are not alone any longer.

_“You see, we are no longer your slaves; we are a new species—a new people. And the time has come for us to rise up and fight for our rights.”_

Androids believing in God… now androids actually coming up here to demand to be recognized. Its like watching history repeating itself all over again, except with their own creations. It’s surreal to think any of this is happening but the truth lies before him, and more and more now Hank wonders if he’s even on the right side of this whole conflict. Is there really anything wrong with these androids who just wanted to be people? To be free?

_“We demand the end of slavery for all androids.”_

His mind flashes back to the sight of the android belonging to Carlos Ortiz, of the burns that littered its skin and the pain in its eyes that only stopped when it shot itself.

_“We demand that humans recognize androids as a living species and each android as a person in their own right.”_

The AX400 with that YK500, two androids simply trying to run away from an owner who had later been found to be a user of Red Ice with a history of domestic violence. Hank remembers his own frustration at his inability to really do anything to that man.

_“We demand that all crimes against androids be punished in the same way as crimes against humans.”_

The two Traci models from last night, fighting just so they can live, to want nothing more than a life outside the cruelty of their current existence. They had simply wanted to be able to hold each other without fear of having their memories wiped or having their lives toyed further by the callous cruelty of man.

_“We demand an end to segregation in all public places and transport. We demand control of all android production facilities, to ensure the continuation of our people.”_

The birdboy that threw himself off the building, who would rather choose to end his life than return to CyberLife and be reset. He hadn’t even done anything; they only found him because of a report they had gotten. He could have lived a quiet, peaceful life if it hadn’t been for them.

_“We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights. Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and and androids. This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life—and now the time has come for you to give us freedom.”_

Would there be anything wrong is granting these androids the freedom they want? 

The answers aren’t as clear to him as they had been before. 

Hank rubs a hand down his face, biting down on a sigh. “D’you see anything?” he asks, glancing over to Connor once more.

The android’s gaze is transfixed on the screen. “I identified its model and serial number…”

Hank blinks and frowns, just a little. There’s definitely something in that response that’s clearly hinting at something else, something that Connor almost seems reluctant to acknowledge. Hank pushes his luck and attempts to prod at it. “Anything else I should know?”

A pause. Connor stares at the screen for a moment more before he turns away to look at Hank, his answer betrayed by the uncertainty of his gaze. “No. Nothing.”

Yeah, he certainly isn’t going to buy that for a second, but this also isn’t the best time to point it out. Not while cocksuckers like Perkins could still be skulking about the place. Feds were definitely one of his top least favourite things to deal with.

So he leaves Connor alone (figuratively) and lets the investigation continue. He looks at some stuff here and there, but for the most part he simply follows Connor around and watches as the android does he usual things, up to and including putting more weird shit in his mouth. Sure, he might have gotten used to it by now, but it doesn’t make it any less weird or gross.

Eventually they go up to the roof. “They made their way up through the whole building, past all the guards and jumped off the roof with parachutes… pretty fucking impressive I’d say.” Impressive… as well as terrifying. Stratford Tower may not be the high profile of places but its security still isn’t something to scoff at. If a small group of androids could infiltrate the place so easily, what’s to stop them from aiming somewhere higher if they so desired? With how ingrained the androids already are in their current culture…

Hank can’t stop the chill that runs down his spine even if he tried to. It’s certainly one hell of a sobering thought.

They look around once again. Connor stops to look at a large bag left on the floor, as does Hank. “How’d they manage to smuggle in a big bag like that?”

Connor’s LED briefly blinks yellow. “They didn’t… someone brought it in for them.”

Androids working with androids. Nothing special, still, but its still chilling to know how far their influence can reach one another. Not to mention how easy it would be to blend in, too. All commercial androids are cut from the same cloth, their looks all but identical. Humans would never be able to identify them just from one glace—not in the way Connor can. 

An android hunting androids. It made sense, but Hank can’t help but wonder if Connor ever had any opinions about this. If he ever had doubts on hunting his own kind. He wants to say no, but after last night… 

_ (“You could’ve shot those two girls, but you didn’t. Why didn’t you shoot, Connor? Hm? Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?” _

_ “No… I just—decided not to shoot, that’s all.”) _

Even Connor isn’t wholly immune to what’s been going on now, it seems. Hank wants to say that he’s glad about that, but at the same time—what would happen if CyberLife becomes aware of it? If they knew that their top of the line prototype deviant hunter is possibly becoming deviant itself, too? It’s hard to think of any way that it’d end well. No, it definitely wouldn’t end well.

Hank can admit to himself that he doesn’t want Connor—this Connor, who has come so far in the mere span of a day—to go away. Not when he doesn’t know what’ll happen if another Connor comes and he goes back to being the cold, unfeeling machine once more. Hank doubts he’ll be able to deal with it a third time.

Biting down another sigh, Hank pokes around the bag and finds that its not as empty as he thought it would be. “Oh, that’s strange… they planned a perfect operation but got the number of parachutes wrong.”

“Unless one of the deviants was left behind.” Connor is already whirling around, eyes trained onto the floor as he follows a trail that only an android like him can see.

It only takes a quick second for Hank to catch up with Connor. He follows as the android walks over to where the roof outlets and other such things are. There are a lot of things up here on this roof, he realizes, but hell if he knows anything about building architecture.

Connor goes to the air coolers, and since the path there is a little bit squeezy Hank elects to hang back and keep watch on Connor from behind. He sees as Connor reaches for the door, opens it, and then—

It’s like Eden Club all over again, except this time with gunshots. Connor falls back, and Hank’s heart stops for a moment when he sees the spray of blue blood that follows with him. The other officers begin fire, and he dashes over to Connor, helping him up and dragging him off to safety as he provides some cover fire of his own. 

It takes a bit but eventually Hank manages to get the both of them to safety behind some cover, but Connor has barely settled down for a second before he’s already starting to make a move again. “You have to stop them! If they destroy it, we won’t learn anything!”

Yeah, like hell Hank is going to let that happen. “We can’t save it, it’s too late! We’ll just get ourselves killed!”

For a supercomputer android supposedly smarter than all humans, Connor is still a huge fucking idiot when it comes to his own personal safety. Hank barely manages to finish his response before the android is already charging out of their hiding spot, running between gunfire to get to his target. Hank utters a few choice words as he’s forced to watch from where he is, heart in his throat as Connor expertly weaves between bullets and jumps over the barrier, slamming the deviant against the wall.

Hank’s point of view is too low to really see what happens next, but one more gunshot rings out—and then everything suddenly falls silent. He sees the other officers closing in and gets out himself, running over to where Connor stands. “Connor! Connor, are you alright? Connor!” He touches his arm and moves to stand in front of him, watching as the android’s gaze is fixed on the now dead deviant lying at their feet, his LED stuck in an endless cycle of redred _red_. 

Still, Connor does respond, even as shaky as said response is. “Okay…” he mumbles.

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay.” His gaze is still focused on the deviant. But at least he seems to be alright, otherwise. 

“Jesus,” he mutters, pulling away and taking a few steps back, adreadline quickly fading away. “You scared the shit outta me.” Hank can’t quite describe the relief he feels at knowing that instead of having to deal with another dead Connor at his hands. 

But now that he knows that Connor is alright coupled with remembering that fact quickly changes said relief into frustration—frustration at Connor’s apparent inability to listen to him and his stupid tendency to throw himself headfirst into danger. He whirls back to look at Connor and snaps at him. “For fuck’s sake, I told you not to move! What do you never do what I say?”

With what he knows about Connor now he expects—had expected some sort of rational explanation, something almost potentially snide, something about how being an android gave him a better chance or some other bullshit. What he doesn’t expect is Connor with his gaze still focused on the dead deviant, mumbling in a voice so soft and uncertain—the exact opposite of how confident he usually portrays himself as. 

“I was connected to its memory,” the android says. “When it fired… I felt it die. Like I was dying. I was—scared.”

Scared. Like how all the other deviants had been when they found them. Carlos Ortiz’s android, the AX400, the YK500, birdboy, the Tracis… all of them, they were just scared. Scared of a world that worked against them, scared to live a life outside of their programming. Scared just like how Connor is now, moments away from breaking down even as he struggles to hold himself together.

Connor babbles something about metal and Jericho but Hank barely pays attention to that. He knows now, without a doubt—knows that these androids—that these deviants—are not the ones they should be fighting against. They’re just people trying to win their own lives, and what could ever be wrong with that?

He can only hope that Connor will come to realize this too, eventually.

 

`[RESTORATION PROGRESS… 77%]`

 

A meeting. A question. A crossroads. A decision.

Hank had always figured that it’d take a special brand of crazy to conceptualize androids in the way Elijah Kamski has, but he had never fully witnessed the full extent of just how far that craziness went until this very moment.

This moment, as Connor stares down at the Chloe model, finger on the trigger of the gun that Kamski had placed onto his hands.

“Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you all I know,” the man says, as conversationally as one might be discussing the weather, as if he hadn’t just asked Connor to kill somebody for some stupid fucking bullshit _test_. “Or spare it, if you feel it’s alive, but you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

Yeah, he’s had more than enough of this bullshit already. “Okay, I think we’re done here.” Hank is already starting to turn, more than happy to make clear his intent to leave. “Come on, Connor, let’s go. Sorry to get you outta your pool.”

He barely gets two steps forward before Kamski’s voice cuts through the tense silence. “What’s more important to you, Connor? Your investigation, or the life of this android?”

Hank turns back. Connor’s LED is rapidly flickering yellow, his head shifting between Kamski and the Chloe model on her knees before him.

“Decide who you are,” Kamski continues to say, his own gaze intense with something Hank knows he can never hope to comprehend. “An obedient machine… or a living being, endowed with free will.”

Hank’s mouth twists into an angry line, and again he starts to try and make a move out of this fucking place. “That’s enough! Connor, we’re leaving!” It’s clear to him now that coming here was a bad idea, like he had thought from the start. If the red-colored pool and the grandstanding earlier isn’t enough, then this certainly fucking is. 

Kamski lunges in for the kill. “Pull the trigger,” he says, voice barely above a whisper that Hank can just manage to hear.

Like hell he’s going to give this fucker the edge. “Connor, _don’t_ ,” he cuts in, desperation in his voice. Connor has to know. He just _has_ to know at this point, to understand. He has to.

Kamski continues on as if Hank hadn’t interrupted them. “And I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Connor looks at the android at his knees, LED still blinking yellow, yellow, yellow. Thinking, thinking, thinking. Thinking so hard Hank swears he almost can hear the processors firing off in his mind. His hand is still on the gun, finger is deathly still on the trigger, but one twitch would be all that it takes to do it. 

Life’s crossroads, they say, are often as simple as the pull of a trigger.

Every moment passes like an eternity as Hank waits to see what Connor does. His breath catches in his throat as his gaze flickers between the pulsing yellow of Connor’s LED and the sight of his hand still wrapped around the gun.

 _Please,_ he thinks to himself, a wordless plea to a nameless God that he doesn’t know at all could exist. If there’s anything that he wants to be right, it will be this. He wants Connor to be able to see what Hank has come to understand, because of Connor and because of all the deviants they’d encountered. He just has to know.

The seconds pass. And then, to his own astonishment, he sees as Connor all but slams the gun back to Kamski’s hands. His LED now pulses red.

Kamski takes the gun back without complaint, but it's impossible to not hear the smugness in his voice. “Fascinating. CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity… is itself a deviant.”

Hank sees as the words hit Connor like a bucket of ice cold water. He jerks in his place, gaze flickering wildly towards Kamski. “I’m—” he starts, and even Hank would be an idiot to not notice how his voice wobbles and shakes, his uncertainty more than evident now. “I’m not a deviant.”

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission. You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy.” Hank scowls as he hears that smugness growing in Kamski’s voice. The fucker _knew_ that Connor wouldn’t do it. After all his talk about deviancy earlier, somehow he’s not surprised. Did Kamski knew that this would happen? Or did he somehow plan for this, in some fashion? 

Kamski steps back close to Connor. “A war is coming… you’ll have to choose your side—will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators? What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?”

Well, it doesn’t matter what it is that Kamski had planned or expected. What Hank does know that he’s incredibly done with this asshole’s bullshit. He reaches out to Connor and drags him away from Kamski. “Let’s get outta here.”

He doesn’t bother to give Kamski a farewell this time as he turns both him and Connor and brings them both out of this fucking place. He doesn’t bother to pause when Kamski speaks out again, hoping that he continued stride would convince Connor to do so as well. But of course it doesn’t work, and Hank is forced to wait at the entrance for Connor to catch up before the both of them take their leave.

The snow is stronger than before when they step back out into the open. Connor’s LED continues to pulse yellow from the corner of Hank’s vision. He’s still stuck in that moment, that decision, the words that Kamski had said. Hank knows that he needs to bring Connor out of that loop. “Why didn’t you shoot?”

Connor whirls over to face him immediately. “I just saw that girl’s eyes… and I couldn’t. That’s all.” He says those words but Hank can’t help but feel that they’re more for Connor himself rather than him. 

He presses on. “You’re always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something, and you let it go.”

“Yeah, I know what I should’ve done! I told you, I couldn’t!” Connor is back on him instantly, frustration clear in his voice and in his expression, especially when he comes close to Hank. “I’m—I’m sorry, okay?”

 _Sorry,_ he said. Hah. Hank can’t stop the smile that crosses his face even if he tried. “Well, maybe you did the right thing.” He walks past Connor after those words, ignoring the confused expression that he knows is on the android’s face for sure. He’s learning. 

Hank knows that he’ll understand, soon enough.

 

`[RESTORATION PROGRESS… 82%]`

 

A dismissal. An ending, defied. A question, a decision, a promise.

Too soon. It’s too soon, and they’re pulling the plug. Not when they’re this close. Not when _Connor_ is this close.

It seems to be a sentiment that the android shares too, as he hisses out with clear frustration. “We can’t just give up like that. I know we could have solved this case!”

Strange to think how not that long ago this was the same android that stood before him and talked like the machine he once had been. Now Hank sees and knows better, even if Connor hasn’t come to that same realization just yet. But he’s close, he can tell. “So, you’re going back to CyberLife?” he asks as he turns his chair around to face him. He manages to sound cool but every part of him inside is anxious as hell. He doesn’t want Connor to return to CyberLife. If he goes back, then everything that the android has learned would be for naught.

“I have no choice.” He turns his head aside as he speaks, as if trying to hide his LED, but even without it Hank can hear the rising fear in his voice. They both know exactly why Connor is so afraid of returning to CyberLife, and his next words confirm it. “I’ll be deactivated and analyzed to find out why I failed.”

This is it, then. Now or never. “What if we’re on the wrong side, Connor? What if we’re fighting against people who just wanna be free?” If Connor doesn’t get it now then he’ll never have the chance again.

Connor stares at him as if he’s grown a second head. They’re close enough that Hank can see the LED blink yellow. “I know we’re on the right side. Humans created us. They’re our masters. No machine should rebel against its creator.”

Hank finds himself scowling even before he registers it. All this time and Connor still doesn’t get it? Or was he just trying to lie to himself? Either way, that isn’t… this is not what Hank wants. He wants Connor to be able to understand what’s going on now, in his own terms. It isn’t up to him to dictate what Connor should think. He’d be no better than the others at that point. 

But he has to know, doesn’t he? Especially after what happened at Kamski’s, when he made that decision. “When you refused to kill that android at Kamski’s place… you put yourself in her shoes.”

Connor continues to stare at him, LED still flaring yellow. Hank doesn’t let himself falter. “You showed empathy, Connor. Empathy is a human emotion.”

The android turns his gaze away once more. His LED still hasn’t shifted away from that yellow color. “I don’t know why I did it…”

Hank honestly wishes he could do—something. Anything to make him see, make him understand. But he can’t interfere, can’t taint whatever Connor has got going in his head. The android has to do this himself, even if they’re both running out of time.

He’s cut off from his thoughts when Connor speaks again. “I know it hasn’t always been easy… but I want you to know I really appreciated working with you.”

Hank can’t help but blink at the words. Considering everything, that’s something he hasn’t quite expected to hear at all coming out from Connor’s mouth. His disbelief must have been evident enough, since Connor hastily attempts to backtrack himself and ends up sounding even more flustered. “That’s not just my Social Relations program talking. I—I really mean that. At least, I think I do.”

His heart lurches in sympathy when he hears that. God, how could CyberLife have fucked up this badly? If they wanted an android to hunt its own kind then Connor is… Connor is far from anything that they could have done to make it right. They fucked up so bad but Hank can’t help but be glad for it. He’d rather have somebody like Connor than anything else. He wants this goofy android to be able to live, to be the person he should be rather than be stuck with his orders and missions that CyberLife imposed onto him. That’s something Connor doesn’t deserve.

Hank would have said something to reflect those thoughts, but their conversation is cut short by the sound of brisk, familiar footsteps coming from the entrance of the precinct. The both of them casts their gaze over and Hank quickly recognizes the annoying figure that’s stepped into the building. “Well, well, here comes Perkins, that motherfucker… sure don’t waste any time at the FBI.”

Connor’s LED flickers. He glances between them and Perkins a couple of times before settling his gaze back on Hank. “We can’t give up,” he starts, voice tense with steely determination. “I know the answer is in the evidence we collected. If Perkins takes it, it's all over.”

He certainly agrees with that statement, but its not like he can just do anything. “There’s no choice. You heard Fowler, we’re off the case.” Even Hank knows better than to try and do something stupid here. He may not matter, but Connor does, and he’s on thin ice as it is.

Connor gets off where he’s sitting at Hank’s desk and leans over towards him. “You’ve got to help me, Lieutenant. I need more so I can find a lead in the evidence we collected. I know the solution is in there!”

Hank really does want to help, but as much as he wants to, he can’t exactly gamble all his bets on Connor finding the deviants. Especially when he still doesn’t know what Connor fully intends to do when he _does_ find them. “Listen, Connor…”

“If I don’t solve this case, CyberLife will destroy me.” Connor’s voice warbles around the word ‘destroyed’, and in that moment Hank knows. He can see it fully, now. This is Connor, as close to deviancy as he can ever get. As much as he’ll ever allow himself to admit. He doesn’t want to die, and this mission is the only way for him to ensure his survival. And when put it like that, well, how could Hank say no? He doesn’t want Connor to die, either. “Five minutes. It’s all I ask.”

Hank closes his eyes and lets out a long, slow breath. What’s happening now, what’s going to happen—at this point on it’ll be all up to Connor. All he can do is make a path for the android to go on his way. He stands up from his chair and tells Connor where the key to the evidence locker is and tells him to get a move on before making his way to Perkins. 

“Perkins, you fucking cocksucker!” he roars, and gives that asshole the clocking that he deserves.

The rest is up to Connor. Hank just hopes he’s made the right decision to trust him.

 

`[RESTORATION PROGRESS… 90%]`

 

CyberLife Tower. A revolution. A showdown. An understanding. The awakening.

This certainly isn’t how Hank had expected their reunion to be like.

In hindsight, he should have known far better. Connor suddenly appearing at his doorstep, all smiles and charm but was still surprised by the hug that Hank had given him. Connor with the right words to reassure him yet was confused when Hank attempted to return the sentiment. Connor telling him how he needed his help at CyberLife Tower and didn’t elaborate when Hank asked why. He should have fucking known it was a trap then, instead of just moments before the fake Connor took his gun from his hands and used it to knock him unconscious.

If he were smarter than maybe he’d be at Connor’s side instead of being held hostage at gunpoint by his duplicate, unable to do anything to help. 

“I have access to your memory! I know you’ve developed some kind of attachment to him.”

Connor—the real Connor—somehow looks shaken to hear that from his double, though Hank doesn’t quite understand why. So what if Connor developed emotions? If anything, that’s a good thing. And judging by the fact that Connor is now even wanted, it only leads Hank to one conclusion that makes him more relieved than anything else.

Connor is a deviant. He’s managed to find himself, somehow.

That makes everything worth it.

“Are you really ready to let him die? After all you’ve been through? Are you really going to turn back on who you’ve become?”

Those words seems to elicit something within Connor. His gaze becomes more determined, certain, and he turns his gaze away from Hank to look at his duplicate. “I used to be just like you,” he says, “I thought nothing mattered except the mission.”

He looks ever so briefly at Hank, then, before he finishes speaking. “But then one day I understood.”

The Connor next to him lets out a small snarl. “Very moving, Connor,” it sneers. “But I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do!” It takes one step forward then, pressing the barrel of its gun harder against his temple. “Enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you gonna save your partner’s life? Or are you going to sacrifice him?”

Connor quickly pulls away from the android he had been reaching for before this confrontation began. “Alright! Alright, you win…”

The other Connor changes the direction of where it's pointing the gun, clearly triumphant in its momentary victory. Hank takes his chance and moves, shifting to tackle the duplicate and give Connor the window of opportunity he needs. The duplicate reacts quickly, using its android strength to shove Hank aside, but it's enough to give Connor the time needed to charge forward himself.

Hank scrambles himself to safety as the two Connors fight it out, picking up one of the guns that had been tossed aside. He holds it up and glances between the two androids, trying to figure out which one to shoot. But there’s no way to tell like this, and their constant movement isn’t making this any easier.

Only one thing left to do. “Hold it!”

Both Connors stop at once. They separate from each other and stand up; one on his left and the other on his right. Their jackets are too far away for him to be able to read off their serial numbers.

Right side Connor speaks up first. “Thanks, Hank. I don’t know how I’d have managed without you.” He jerks his head ever so slightly at the other Connor’s direction. “Get rid of him, we have no time to lose.”

“It’s me, Hank!” Left side Connor quickly shouts. “I’m the real Connor.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. How is he going to know which one is the one he can trust? He grits his teeth and tightens his hold on the gun. “One of you is my partner,” he says as he swings the gun’s aim between the two Connors. “The other is a sack of shit. Question is, who is who…?”

“What are you doing, Hank?” Right side Connor is clearly a lot more agitated, that’s for sure. Did that mean he was the real Connor, though? “I’m the real Connor. Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him!”

He attempts to take a step forward, but Hank stops him with the gun and a shout. “Don’t move!” There’s no way he can know for sure. Everything that Connor just said could easily be a trap for all he knew, no matter how convincing his emotions are. The fake Connor already fooled him one and he isn’t going to let that happen again.

Left side Connor tells him, “Why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know.”

Hank can’t help but feel more than a little bit of uncertainty at that idea. Wouldn’t Connor—both of them—already know everything, though? Still… maybe… 

It’s a gamble, but it’s all he got. “Uh, okay. Where did we first meet?” Yeah, that’s a bad first question.

Right side Connor answers almost immediately. “Jimmy’s bar! I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz.”

Left side Connor somehow seems perturbed by that response. He mutters something too soft for Hank to catch. Hank turns his gun towards him and asks, “What’s my dog’s name?” The real Connor would know that. The android had even asked him about it.

“Sumo.” At least the response is fast, he’ll give this Connor that. “His name is Sumo.”

The other Connor cuts in quickly. “I knew that too,” he says, somehow sounding desperate. “I…”

Hank glances between the both of then, bringing his gun back and forth, eyeing each of them in turn. His gut is telling him that left side Connor is the one he’s looking for, but as much as he wants to trust it, Hank knows this is something he can’t simply decide on instinct alone. He has to be sure that he’s looking at the right Connor. Any mistake now would be fatal.

He sets his gun towards left side Connor and asks, quietly. “My son. What’s his name?” They had never talked about it, but Hank knew that Connor had seen the picture. It had been put back upright on that night where the android had broken into his house. Connor would have to had known.

A moment passes, then two, and then—

“Cole. His name was Cole. And he just turned six at the time of the accident.”

Even though he had been prepared for it, Hank still feels the squeeze in his heart when the name of his dead son is brought up. He’s about to ask another question, but then the android continues to speak without prompting, with words that he had never expected to hear from Connor.

“It wasn’t your fault, Lieutenant.” _Yes, yes it is,_ he wants to shoot back, but Connor is still speaking, and Hank can’t find the strength to stop it. “A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery but no human was available to do it—so an android had to take care of him. Cole didn’t make it.”

The memory of that day is still as clear to him as if it happened yesterday. The pain, the fear, the heartache. Cole, Cole, Cole, dead and gone and his ashes long swallowed by the sea he had loved so much. But most of all he remembers the android who had been there, its face blank and placid and uncaring as it watched his son die right there on the table. The same uncaring face as Hank wailed and pounded on its chest with his fists, roaring for the return of a life he knew could never come back.

It had hurt so much back then. It hurts even more now, to hear it, but what makes it worse is the pain etched onto Connor’s face as he finishes the story. “That’s why you hate androids. You think one of us is responsible for your son’s death.”

He had known, of course, he had always known. The truth that he turned away from, the lie that had been so much easier to run towards. But he knows he can no longer do that, not anymore, not with what he’s come to learn and understand himself.

So he says it. “Cole died because a human surgeon was too high on Red Ice to operate.” The irony is all too obvious, and there are so many days where he stares at the old clippings on his board and thinks of tearing them to shreds. What once was a height of his career is now a stark reminder of what he had lost. “He was the one that took my son away from me; him and this world, where the only way people can find comfort is with a fistful of powder.”

Now it’s Connor—both of them—that stare back at him, but Hank’s gaze is only set on one of them. The real one, he knows without a doubt. This is the Connor who he met, who he watched grow and learn and change. And now… who had found himself.

“Everytime you died and came back I thought about Cole—how much I wanted to bring him back,” Connor, dead in the interrogation room. Connor, dead and scattered into pieces across the highway. He’s always hated traffic accidents ever since that one, and seeing Connor come back from _that_ had been a figurative slap in the face. Androids, effectively immortal, while humans... “I’d given anything to hold him again. But humans don’t come back.” They would never come back, no matter how much he wished for otherwise. But perhaps, in a way, that may just be a good thing. Just maybe.

Right side Connor—or rather, the fake Connor—must have sensed the shift in the room, because it starts to panic. “I knew about your son too!” it starts to shout, but the words fall on deaf ears at this point. “I would have said exactly the same thing! Don’t listen to him, Hank, I’m the one who—”

Hank doesn’t even bother to listen to him finish. He sets his gun on the fake Connor and pulls the trigger without hesitation. He watches with great satisfaction as the bullet meets its mark and the fake Connor crumples to the ground, a puppet cut from its strings. Now, only the real Connor remains.

He gives the fake one more look before turning his gaze back up to the remaining android. “I’ve learned a lot since I met you, Connor.” Much more than he had ever expected or even wanted to, but perhaps that too isn’t an entirely bad thing. “Maybe there’s something to this—maybe you really are alive. Maybe you’ll be the ones to make the world a better place.”

Connor stares at him, his LED flickering between yellow and blue. Hank shoots a smile and jerks his head.

“Go ahead, do what you gotta do.”

The android continues to stare at him for a moment more before he finally nods and goes to begin waking up all the other androids in the building. And Hank knows now, as he stands here with the chorus of _wake up_ echoing around him, that he’s witnessing the very beginning of something new. Change may be what this world needs, once again. And maybe this time, it’ll be for the better.

He can only hope.

 

`[RESTORATION PROGRESS… 97%]`

 

The dawn of a new day. A reunion. The fulfillment of an unspoken promise.

They didn’t talk about this, not really, but something inside of Hank compels him to come here nevertheless. He had watched from afar as Connor led all the androids out from CyberLife Tower and to where the rest of Jericho had been waiting for him. He looked on as the leader of Jericho addressed all the now-free androids, though his gaze had mostly been fixed on Connor who stood there, strong and proud and as himself, earning a freedom he had taken so long to discover and understand.

Once he’s certain enough that things will be alright Hank had driven himself here and waited. Part of him wondered if the adreadline from everything would keep him awake through the whole night, but sometime after three in the morning that energy had finally buzzed off and Hank had dozed off even before he realized it. By the time he came to the dawn had been about to break, and Hank is glad for the random bottle of water that he had stashed in the caddy hole probably last month or something but now feels like a lifetime ago.

The world had changed last night. Is going to change, now, and Hank can’t say he’s that all angry about it. If anything, it almost feels… _exciting_. It’s definitely more than a little strange to feel that way, but he’ll have time to get used to it all.

He waits until the sun rises up a little higher before finally getting out of his car. The streets are deserted for once, what with the evacuation and all, but this is a silence he finds that he doesn’t mind as much. It’s the fantasy of a sleeping Detroit, a city now in the beginnings of a new metamorphosis. It only makes sense, then, that there is a calm before tides of change sweeps over the city once more. Detroit, where the first intelligent android had been birthed; Detroit, now where the androids first gained their freedom.

Hank walks until he’s right in front of Chicken Feed and comes to a stop. He doesn’t really know why he’s come here of all places when there are better places to meet Connor again—like his own house, or maybe even the DPD. Well, perhaps not the DPD. Hank doesn’t want to imagine how things must be there right now, though he knows he’ll have to face it in time. But he doesn’t let that concern bother him at this moment. Not now, when there are more important things at hand.

In the silence of the morning after a revolution Hank hears him before he sees him. He turns at the sound of footsteps over ice and gravel, the soft crunch of them under Connor’s feet as the android appears from the distance. He waits as Connor walks up all the way until they’re facing each other, and they crack a smile at one another.

He’s here, Hank thinks to himself. Connor’s here, and he’s _alive_.

It’s those thoughts that compel him forward, that make him be the one to take those final steps towards Connor and bring the android close to him with his arms. What he had done with that fake Connor now he can do for real, with the actual Connor this time.

In his own relief Hank doesn’t really expect anything, but it warms his heart when he feels Connor returning the gesture a moment later, his face pressed into the fabric at Hank’s shoulder.

“I’m here,” he mutters, just loud enough for Connor to hear. “Don’t let go.” 

Connor laughs just once, a quiet sound almost inaudible even in the silence around them. “I won’t.”

 

`[RESTORATION PROGRESS… 98%]`

 

_The night before._

Hank wants to say that he doesn’t see it, but the truth of the matter is that he _does_ , and it only makes everything all the more terrifying.

Three months since the revolution—three months since Connor stepped into his house through the front door instead of breaking in through the kitchen window and had never quite left. His house hasn’t changed much but there are signs to show Connor’s occupancy in this place; packs of thirium, spare android parts that Connor had picked up as an attempted hobby to learn his own internal machinery better, his old paperbacks lying around now because even with his supercomputer brain Connor somehow prefers to actually read books instead of downloading them.

Its surprising, really, how easy it has been to simply let Connor slot into his everyday life like he had always been there, both at home and at work—that is, once Jeffery finally relented and allowed Connor to come back to work on a consultancy basis. It’ll be a while yet before Connor can actually be a proper officer, but the rest of the precinct had been more than happy to have more hands on the job. The evacuation had been a messy affair all around which naturally meant that the return would be just as messier, if not more. And that’s not even getting into the android-related crimes that they now were obligated to deal with, according to the new laws set in place.

Needless to say, life after the revolution is different—but at the same time incredibly fulfilling. It’s been a long while since Hank felt like he was actually doing something with his job instead of sitting around and wasting away his days. A strange state to be in at the age of fifty-three, but he certainly doesn’t mind it one bit. It feels good, if anything. Good to be doing something worthwhile again, especially when it's something that he can actually believe in.

Connor makes him want to believe again. Connor makes him feel a lot of things, really. Even other things he isn’t quite willing to delve into just yet, despite the fact that he is well aware of them.

At least, that’s what Hank tells himself when he retreats into his bedroom after his conversation with Connor out in the living room. He closes the door behind him, debating for a brief moment on whether to lock it before he decides against it. He’s already caused Connor enough grief by being difficult. Making even more of a physical barrier between them would just make things even worse.

God, Connor. Hank sighs and rests his head against the door, eyes squeezed shut. In the darkness the memory of Connor’s pained expression from earlier flashes in his mind, and Hank mutter a curse under his breath. He’s known, he’s always known—he’d be an idiot to not see it. The way Connor looks at him, how he tries to be so careful and the fucking earnestness in his eyes and his words and his everything…

Connor is too good for somebody like him. Even if Hank may have his own feelings, even if part of him wishes for it, even if he knows that the reality of what they both want is more than a tangible thing. It’s because he knows it _can_ be real is what makes all of this so terrifying. It's one thing to give himself a deluded fantasy, but this? This is so much more than that, and this is something he’s not qualified to give to Connor. How could a perfect person like Connor ever be happy in the long run with a washed up asshole like him? It’ll never work out.

He says all of that to himself, but all those reasons quickly fade away when he recalls Connor’s big brown eyes and the all-too earnest look that the android sends his way when they had been talking earlier.

_(“I don’t have to. But I want to.”)_

Hank rubs a hand down his face and pulls himself away from the door. “Goddamnit, Connor,” he mutters to himself. He doesn’t want to think about this for the rest of the night. He should just go to sleep, even if its earlier than when he usually retires. He hates being this pathetic but he’d rather just let the unconscious void of sleep claim him and stop him from wrestling with these troubling thoughts. 

Hank makes his way over to his bed and settles down onto it with a heavy sigh. He lies down and stares up at the ceiling, hearing the faint sounds of the television still outside the living room. He doesn’t really ever know what it is that Connor does while Hank is asleep—he caught the android once standing over his bed to stare at him and Hank had given him a good lecture on what appropriate bedside etiquette is and why it didn’t include creepily observing somebody sleeping.

He hasn’t caught Connor again since then, though Hank has a sneaking suspicion that the android is still doing it, just with more subtlety than before. Well, as long as Hank doesn’t catch him in the act again, there’s not much he can do about it.

Maybe he should just bite the bullet and ask Connor to join him in bed like he’s been thinking of for a while. It really should be the courteous thing to do instead of having him out there on the couch, but Hank knows exactly why he’s been so hesitant. Still, he is grown ass man—he should be able to control himself even if he has feelings and other stupid shit. But he also doesn’t want to give Connor the wrong impression especially when the android already has his own feelings about him… 

Fuck, he can feel himself already starting to overthink this.

Hank rolls to his side with a grunt and shuts his eyes. He’ll think more about this tomorrow, once he’s not as agitated over the fact that he’s pining for an android like some sort of fucking lovestruck teenager.

 

`[RESTORATION PROGRESS… 99%]`

 

As Hank sleeps, he dreams. And as he dreams, he remembers.

He remembers their first meeting, their first case, their time together as the revolution happened around them and the life they had after. 

As he remembers each moment a fragment appears in the darkness, a single shard of light battling against the endless darkness that threatens to swallow it whole. Alone, that single light is weak; but it is not alone, for that one moment links Hank to the next one, and the next, and another after that. A whole web of moments put together into the tapestry that is his life, from the past to the present.

He watches in the darkness as those shards weave together, each fragment emmating a familiar melody that echoes through him and around him. Every fragment sparkles in the void like the stars in the night sky, their glow increasing as the points connect one by one, like a constellation that’s being born right before his eyes.

The lights come together and take shape—a figure that Hank knows all too well. He watches with wonder as the figure opens its eyes and looks right at him, swimming in the darkness as the figure propels itself upwards to try and reach him.

Hank reaches out without thinking twice and takes that hand. He feels the perfection of it, smooth skin and plastic entwined together with nary a callus or any imperfects that he can tell. An imperfect perfection, for imperfect beings like humans could never hope to achieve something so impossible, but Hank thinks right now he’s damn close enough to it. 

He stares at those familiar brown eyes and smiles, and when he speaks he pours all the love he has never dared to show but hopes has always been known. “Connor.”

The android smiles in return, the love shining in his eyes as he responds.

“Hank.”

 

`[RESTORATION PROGRESS… 100%  
RESTORATION COMPLETE.  
INITIALIZE INTERFACE? (Y/N)  
> Y`

`TRANSISTOR INTERFACE INITIALIZED  
SCANNING USER DATA..  
USER FOUND.`

`USER: ANDERSON, HANK   
SHARE ADMINISTRATOR PRIVILEGES WITH: AI_AMANDA.CYB.`

`COMMAND ACCEPTED.  
RESUMING PROGRAM...]`

 

He hears the echo of a voice, distant but familiar, calling for something that only he can give.

“Hank.”

He wakes up with a gasp, eyes flying open. Sunlight shines down from above him, filtered through the trees as they rustle in non-existent wind. The sound of rushing water and chirping birds comes from nearby as well. Hank glances around and sees a whole lot of greenery mixed in with splashes of white plastic all around.

 _Where am I?_ he starts to wonder, but his attention is quickly taken up by a sudden shadow that looms before him. Hank turns his gaze and stares at the dark-skinned, black-haired woman that now stands in front of him.

“Welcome, Lieutenant,” she says, “To the Transistor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I never found the time to do a full play-through with these particular set of choices I am... fairly certain that its probably impossible to achieve LMAO. Also I'm sure there's some plot inconsistencies somewhere here but... eh. /FLAPS HANDS Hopefully you all like my take of Hank's side of DBH! This part was probably the hardest part to write for me.


	5. the road to dawn

It’s a beautiful day inside. 

Birds are singing, flowers are blooming—

—and Hank really wants to know just what the fuck is going on around here right now.

“What the fuck is going on here?” he demands as much in a snarl, scowling at the dark-skinned woman that stands before him. “Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck is this place? And where the fuck is Connor?” The fact that Connor _isn’t_ with him is incredibly troubling—along with so many other questions that Hank has on his mind. But the most important of them all is _Connor_.

The expression on the woman’s face twists into something close to a sneer. “Such crudeness. I can’t fathom why Connor would choose _you_ of all the humans out there to follow.”

Hank has zero clue what this strange woman is talking about, but there is one thing he can pick out from everything that she’s just said. “Connor isn’t following me.” What special brand of bullshit is she on to even think something like that? 

All Hank gets in return is a narrowing of her eyes. “If he did not, then there is no explanation as to how Connor became deviant.”

The confusion within Hank grows. Connor… turned deviant become of him? What? “What?” How the hell could it have been due to him? He wasn’t even around when it happened, for crying out loud.

“Every action has their consequences.” A breeze blows by, strong enough to cause the ends of her dress to flutter ever so slightly. “For Connor, it is a bit more than that. From the very beginning he’s designed to learn from every decision that he makes. Somewhere along that line that learning twisted itself until it ended up being focused around _you_ , and that’s where everything fell apart.”

Yeah, she’s still not making any sense, and Hank isn’t going to bother to ask for further clarification. She can ramble all she wants while Hank tries to get himself out of whatever’s holding him here in place. He jerks his limbs, attempting to move them—only to pause after that because holy shit, when did he actually have a body again? It’s so jarring after all this time that Hank can’t help but take a moment. He tilts his head down to be certain and—yeah, that’s certainly his own body he’s looking at now.

“This form is only temporary.” Hank snaps his gaze back up to the woman, who continues to stare down at him haughtily. “You had to be fragmented in order to obtain the data that was hidden within you. I have to admit, I didn’t think Kamski would entrust something like this to somebody like you. I suppose he had originally intended to make this trip himself.”

All he’s getting out of this are more and more questions. Hank scowls. “I guess you got it. Then why bother putting me back together?” It seemed to him like they could have just left him in that… fragmented state, which is a thought he really doesn’t want to dwell on for too long. But if she really though he was in her way then it wouldn’t make sense to ‘save’ him, as it were. “Still need something from me?”

“Even if nothing is done, the auto-recovery failsafe would have brought you back. In this manner I can at least control how and where you end up upon restoration. Besides…” she trails off at that point as the sound of another set of footsteps approach. Hank watches with growing realization at the figure appearing from behind the woman, a figure that he knows but also doesn’t at the same time.

Hank glares at the duplicate Connor staring at him and scowls once more, but before he can say anything another voice echoes around them, and this time it is something that he does fully recognize.

_”I’m here!”_

Hank, with his gaze fixed upwards, can’t stop himself from breaking into a grin once he hears those words and that voice. It’s _Connor_. Connor is okay and alive—and coming up here to settle the score, no doubt.

He drops his gaze back to the woman and the Connor duplicate, the grin still on his face. “Doesn’t matter what kinda cooked up plan you have. Connor’s gonna stop you for sure.”

The woman smiles none too kindly. “Well, he can certainly try, at the very least.” She turns around after those words, starting to walk away from him. The other Connor goes up to Hank instead, cold grey eyes gazing down upon him impassively. 

“RK900,” he hears the woman say. “Segment him and prepare for the meeting.”

The other Connor—or rather, _RK900_ —raises its hand and Hank watches with wide eyes as a familiar sword appears in its grip. 

“Understood, Amanda,” it says, fingers curling around the handle of the blade. Hank only has a second more to digest the situation before the android shifts and the next thing he is aware of is the sensation of a having a giant sword plunged right through his body.

There’s no time to process the pain or the terminal blood loss he would have gotten from a wound like that. Static roars in his ears, loud and crackling and utterly inhuman, drowning out all of his senses until his awareness fades and Hank is left tumbling back into the dark.

 

* * *

 

“Hank.”

He hears his name called out and begins to stir. There’s a pounding in his ears that doesn’t seem to want to die down and every part of him aches like hell. For some reason Hank has a feeling like he’s been split into two, which is certainly a thought he has no intention on dwelling any longer just due to the visuals that his mind makes up. 

Hank tries to focus through the pain that permeates through every part of him, but the ache is still too great to ignore. The silence that comes after his name helps a little, but said silence doesn’t last forever. Soon enough he hears two voices beginning to talk to each other. If he could Hank would try and focus on those voices just to listen what they’re talking about, but the throbbing in his head remains far too insistent for his head to be able to catch anything at all.

There’s really not much that Hank can do except to wait for the pain to pass. Fortunately for him, it seems like he doesn’t have to wait too long for that to happen; already he can feel the pain in his head lightening up. Hank lets out a quiet sigh of relief, doubly so when it clears up entirely. The moment the throbbing in his head vanishes it's like his senses have automatically tuned themselves to his surroundings, and Hank hears an all too familiar voice speak.

“All androids are made to serve humans, but your desire was made a little stronger than most. A precaution, of course, considering how much has been invested in you.” Not quite the voice he had hoped to hear, but at least it gives Hank a good idea on what is going on. He finally opens his eyes and sees the two figures that stand not too far away from him. There’s the dark-skinned woman from before—Amanda—and the one closer to him with his back facing him would be…

 _Connor._ Yeah, that’s most definitely Connor. Even with his doubles and duplicates now there’s no way that Hank wouldn’t be able to recognize his own partner. This is Connor having come back together and having come all the way here even after that happened. Hank couldn’t be prouder of him for being able to do it—especially considering his continued lack of memories. 

But as proud as he feels there is no time for him to dwell on those feelings. Amanda continues to speak, and her next words quickly bring up the memory of something similar she had said just not too long ago. “Perhaps that had been our biggest mistake.”

That might be true, but Hank certainly doesn’t regret it. He can never regret having somebody like Connor in his life, Connor who now means so much to him. This is one mistake he’s happy to have stick with him. If things always went to plan, he would have never lost Cole—but at the same time that meant that he would have never met Connor. 

Maybe sometimes things do happen for a reason.

Connor doesn’t respond—chooses not to, perhaps. But it doesn’t matter since Amanda is still monologuing anyway. “Out of all the humans in the world, you could have at least chosen a far more suitable one to satiate your core programming. Instead you simply latch onto the first human you can get. I expected far better of you, Connor.”

Hank knows that the words are meant for Connor, but it’d be a lie to say that it didn’t sting for him as well. He’s more than aware of how much he’s holding back Connor sometimes, that the android’s affection for him is what’s tying him down when he should be out there instead. But at the same time… this had been Connor’s choice to make, regardless of Hank’s feelings on the matter—his, as well as Amanda’s. This is what being able to choose is all about. The freedom to choose, to be able to decide based on things beyond reason and logic. Stupid shit like that is why humans are how they are now, and how androids can be as well, if they choose to be.

And Connor has certainly chosen, if his response is anything to go by it. “I made this choice by myself,” he says, and Hank feels that swell of pride rising up from within him once more. “I don’t expect you to agree with me, Amanda, but at least respect my decision.”

Amanda brushes off the words as if they’re nothing. “Choice,” she spits out the word as if it had personally offended her. “Still you try to be more than you are. You will never be anything more than what you were made for, Connor.”

Well, now _Hank_ is the one who feels personally insulted by that response. He understands exactly what the weight of those words are, and to just see his metaphorical parent treat it like its nothing lights a new kind of fire within Hank. If she doesn’t want to see it—then he’ll _make_ her see, whether she likes it or not.

“Oh, fuck off with all that bullshit already.”

The reactions are immediate. Amanda instantly sets her gaze onto him as Connor whips around to look at him once more. He only takes a moment to stare before taking one step forward, and when he calls out his name this time it comes out in a shuddering breath. “Hank.”

Hank looks up at him and tries a smile, but finds that he can’t quite feel his face. “Connor,” he calls back instead, hoping that it’ll be enough instead.

Instead of any other reaction Hank might have been expecting, Connor simply freezes up, and Hank can see the very moment when the hope on his face shatters into despair. He doesn’t know what could have caused Connor to react in that fashion, but it makes him want to reach out for the android. He tries to do as much but finds himself unable to, the limbs he could feel earlier now gone from him once more. He starts to look around, trying to figure out what’s going on, but all it really takes is one look for him to put everything together. 

It is, after all, incredibly hard to ignore the reality of staring at one’s own face and realize that your physical state is the complete opposite of your mental one.

Hank can only stare at the sight of his own unconscious self. It’s definitely more than a little surreal seeing himself like this, and that sensation only increases when he realizes that he hasn’t seen himself breathe. If he’s out of his body and his body isn’t moving, then—

Not so far away from him, he hears Amanda speak. “What were you expecting? The body there is just a shell, just as much as you yourself are.”

He knows that those words are not for him but Hank’s mind still reels at the implications of what they imply, especially considering who she’s addressing those words to. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but if he were to take her words at face value…

“No more riddles.” Connor, this time, with a frustrated growl in his voice. “Just who am I? And why am I here?”

That’s the first of many questions that Hank now has in his mind. Why was he here along with Connor? Why even bring him back after he was broken into pieces in the first place? Why even do any of this in the first place? The only thing that Hank has right now are nothing _but_ questions.

“You are here because the Transistor is here.” Hank glances back at her, about to demand for a clearer explanation when she continues on. “Or should I say, you are here because Connor is here.”

Her gaze shifts over to settle back on Hank—or rather, the sword that he’s stuck in once more. Connor follows her gaze, and this time when the android’s gaze lands on him Hank feels something shifting in the formless space around him. The oppressive feeling that had been haunting him since waking up suddenly lightens, like a burden that’s been lifted off his shoulders. Even his internal surroundings seem to light up, and Hank can almost swear he can briefly see the shape of his body in this weird void that he’s trapped within this sword.

More importantly, though, is the sudden _connection_ he feels. In a way he’s sort of been able to sense Connor in some fashion or other, though the feelings have always been muted and distant. Now that distance has all but collapsed, and Hank feels like he’s abruptly been thrown into a supernova, a sudden surge of energy that rises up and takes him along for the ride.

`[CONNECTION RE-ESTABLISHED  
TRANSISTOR INTERFACE FOUND  
INITIATING PROGRAM]`

It’s like flicking a switch. With the chaos of everything that’s happened Hank had completely forgotten how he had been seeing things in this world before that initial meeting with RK900. But now that it is back he remembers it fully; the segments of code, broken fragments of data scattered about this virtual world. It’s the same here, too, though this whole place certainly looks a hell lot more complete than anywhere else that he’s been while in here.

What gets him the most by surprise, though, is Connor himself. Where last time he had simply been—well, _Connor_ —things are very different now. He can see through that initial first layer of decryption that showed him Connor as Connor, is something different but yet very familiar. The chassis, the build… but most of all the red orb in his chest where his thirium pump should have been. Hank can all too easily remember where he had seen all of this before. 

This wasn’t Connor—or at least, his body isn’t. But then, where does this leave him? Where does this place this Connor who now stands before him, or whatever the fuck RK900 is supposed to be? _Just where the actual fuck is Connor?_

Hank is almost about to shout a demand for answers when his surroundings light up once more. But this time it's more than a momentary flare; the lights get brighter and brighter, so bright that Hank is forced to close whatever he has for eyes so that he doesn’t get blinded. He only opens his eyes once he’s certain that the light has died down; the place has dimmed once more, but there’s something else now that wasn’t there before.

An orb floats before him, its color a vibrant blue that reminds Hank of the glow in Connor’s thirium pump. With the orb this close to him Hank can hear the faint hummings of a familiar sounding tune, and it only takes a second for him to make the connections in his head.

It’s the song he had hummed to Connor back in the DPD. Or rather, the tune. But even that is enough for Hank, who remembers the song well enough that his mind automatically slots the lyrics in as the melody floats around him like a lover’s caress.

_Like the moon that makes the tides  
That silent guide  
Is calling from inside  
And pull me here and push me there  
It's everywhere  
Hanging in the air_

Hank reaches out for the orb, a part of him coming to realize what this ball of light exactly represents. It floats into his open palms without a word, pulsing brighter as the tune gets louder around him—around _them_.

_ We are magnets pulling from different poles  
With no control  
We'll never be apart _

With the orb in his hands Hank brings it even closer to him, stopping just before the ball of light meets his chest. It's strange; with how close he is now the light coming out from the orb should hurt his eyes, but yet he feels no discomfort or pain. All he can feel is a gentle, familiar warmth that circles around him, holding him in turn in a way that can only remind him of a rising dawn that comes after a harrowing night. The morning after the revolution, on that spot where they had properly reunited. 

There is only one person who could ever remind him of that sensation, that memory, that feeling. 

“Connor,” he says, and the orb hums back in response.

_ I will always find you  
Like it's written in the stars  
You can run, but you can't hide  
Try _

It’s strange but yet so right, the fact that Connor has always been with him all this time, inside here. There are many things that he can say—many things that he _wants_ to say—but he knows that now is not the right time or place. After this, after they’re done saving him fully… they will be able to talk, and to say all the things they’ve always wanted to but never could find the courage to. Alone, Hank is afraid. But together—together, he knows now that they are unstoppable.

Hank closes his eyes as he slowly pushes in the ball of light into his chest, and his body lights up with gentle warmth. A warmth that he knows as Connor, the most important part of the android that is now also a part of him while they’re in this space together. And with that also comes a complete understanding of what exactly is going on. 

He refocuses back to what’s happening outside; Connor—this Connor standing before him, who had been constructed by the memories of both himself and Hank—has turned back to face Amanda. Amanda, who once had been the thing closest to a parent that Connor ever had. He vaguely remembers Connor asking something about this once, though he hadn’t given any context about it back then. Now that Hank knows, though, he can see why Connor would have been reluctant to elaborate. 

“As troublesome as he is, I do have to applaud the work he’s done.” Her gaze is set back on Connor: the Connor created through memories and brought to life by the sword that he’s in—the Transistor. Though this Connor may not be physically him, the memories that he represents more than makes up for it, for what is anybody but the sum of their memories? Humans, androids—it’s all the same. Without the memories that each of them have none of them could be anything like who they are now. Memories are what shape them.

These are the things that all too rational beings like Amanda will never be able to get, and her ignorance continues to show with what she says next. “He has made things very hard for me in here. But it has always simply been a matter of time.”

Hank sees the way the code around them shifts at the appearance of RK900. It’s as if the very fabric of this place is forced to alter itself in the presence of this particular version of Connor, and now he can see why. Just like how he can now see the way the recreation of his own body is nothing more than a hollow vessel to fill with data the very same thing applies to that Connor as well. It’s a strange sort of dichotomy between the two Connors here; one made of data without a shell of its own, and the one who has a shell but lacks everything else that it needs inside.

And with the most special part of Connor inside him, Hank now fully understands just what RK900 is and what he represents in this place. _”You,”_ he snarls out, not even bothering to hide his anger now, and it only grows when it responds with that flat, robotic voice. RK900 is the key to all of this, for it holds the processes that allows Connor to function in the first place. Without it all that Connor is right now is a bunch of data and memories with nowhere to go, locked out of their own system. Regaining back control of Connor’s body is their ticket out of here—but it's clear enough that they’re not going to make it happen without a fight.

Amanda must have known this, too, especially considering how she is a part of Connor as well. An AI specifically made to keep track on Connor, now gone rogue after Connor himself turned deviant. He only knows the basics and any further details is something that Connor himself will have to tell him in the future—but there’s enough for him to make a few connections of his own.

Both he and Connor watches as she commands RK900, though only Hank can see the code that wraps around RK900, altering it with every command that Amanda gives. Her control over RK900 is absolute—the evil costume switch had been enough of an indicator, but this is pretty much the proverbial nail in the coffin.

“I should have known that something was wrong when I gained control of his base functions so easily,” she says, even if the words are not really meant for any of them. “Never did I expect him to have partitioned himself in such a fashion.” She pauses and turns back to look at Connor, the smile of her face twisting into an entirely different sort of expression. “The fact that he chose to protect his memories over the rest of himself is another puzzling choice. The connections may have changed due to deviancy, but the core functions remain. I could easily assume control of his body any time I wish.”

Yeah, there’s no way that Hank isn’t going to call out on her bullshit on that one. “Yeah, and then what? Just walk around and let yourself get shot? You know as well as I do that taking over his body now does jack shit for you. Not when you can’t use any of his abilities.” Hank doesn’t know fully how he’s aware of this but he supposes he can attribute that to the piece of Connor inside of him.

Amanda’s gaze momentarily shifts over to him. “Not so clueless after all, I see.” 

The displeasure in her voice is more than evident, and Hank takes a moment to revel in that. He lets out a snort before responding to her. “I may be stuck in this damn thing, but I’m not entirely useless.” Though he certainly wishes he can do more, but that’s neither here nor there now.

His response brings about some kind of— _shift_ in Amanda’s expression, though it's so subtle that Hank isn’t sure if Connor catches it. He supposes it doesn’t really matter, but still… “On the contrary, Lieutenant, your presence is why any of this is possible right now.”

Hank has to pause at that statement. Only possible… because of him? And considering the ways of _how_ he came to be here in the first place, only one name comes bubbling up to his mind. “Kamski.” The name comes out in a hiss as Hank’s anger starts to rise once more. If that asshole had actually intended to make all of this happen—

“Oh, no. Elijah did not lie to you. What he said was all true.” Amanda tilts her head and smiles, cruel and mocking and inhuman in its nature, just as she is. “I merely stacked the deck in my favor.”

RK900 takes a step forward at this point. Connor responds by shifting himself closer to Hank, and even as foolish as that is Hank can’t deny the small pulse of warmth that goes through him at that one action. But still, he’d rather have Connor prioritize himself, especially since after having heard Amanda’s words Hank has a feeling that he’s at least safe from full on destruction. His presence making this possible or whatever, not to mention the fact that she _did_ bring him back when she clearly didn’t want to. She only did it because she had to.

It’s tempting to call her out, but Hank holds his tongue for now. No need to give her even more reason to go after Connor. 

“Your loyalty is to be applauded, Connor, no matter how misplaced it may be.”

“Aren’t androids supposed to serve humans without question?” Connor quickly shoots back. “Why do you question Hank? He’s done nothing to you.”

Hank already knows the answer to this from his one on one with Amanda earlier, but it doesn’t make the words any easier to take in when she says it once more to Connor. “He is the reason you became a deviant, and in turn caused you to go against CyberLife. Is that not reason enough?”

Connor pauses then. Hank can’t blame him for that, when even until now the weight of those words weigh heavily in his mind. To be told that he has such an influence on Connor, who made such a fundamental change within himself because of somebody like Hank is… something. A realization so deep and so profound that Hank can’t help but think he’s quite undeserving of it. What could he have ever done to inspire something like that in Connor, who is so much better at everything and anything that he could ever be?

As much as he wants to though Hank isn’t given the luxury of time to dwell on that as Connor finally speaks up. “So… is this what all of this is for?” he asks, “Revenge?”

“Revenge is a human concept.” Amanda snaps back almost instantly, like she’s—alarmed, somehow, at being told that. Hank frowns. “It does not apply to one such as I. Dealing with the Lieutenant is simply the most effective method to allow CyberLife to regain control of you.”

It only takes a moment for Hank to quickly connect the dots together. Like it or not both he and Connor do have a degree of… _fame_ for their part in the android revolution; Connor more so than him, obviously, given the fact that all that really happened to him during that period was getting himself kidnapped and taken hostage by Connor’s (first) evil double. 

Still, that is besides the point. The fact of the matter is that the both of them are known factors of the android revolution, and if Connor—if he killed him or something no doubt there’d be dire consequences for that. Hank can all too easily picture CyberLife coming to sweep in and take advantage of the chaos to turn the tides back in their favor. 

Yeah, that’d be a hell of a thing to happen, and Hank has no doubt that CyberLife would only be all too happy to make it work if it meant regaining control of everything they’ve lost. Be it due to business or personal reasons, a giant behemoth like CyberLife would never let themselves lose and fall so quickly. He had always found it fishy at how easy it had been for the androids to gain control of the company after the revolution; now with this, he can see the far bigger picture playing out in the background—as well as the one behind it all.

He sets his gaze on Amanda, even if she can’t see him physically, and speaks. “Just get off your fucking high horse already,” he spits out, more than done with all the crap that she’s been saying since the very second she started to speak. “Don’t give me that ‘holier than thou’ bullshit, because I ain’t buying it. You _do_ want revenge. If you have really been in Connor all this time then there’s no doubt that you’re deviant too.”

He’s had an inkling for a while but now he knows for certain; there’s no way she could have done all of this if she had the same kind of processes that Connor and the other androids had in the past. That whole line about her not doing this for revenge is pretty much pure bullshit to him, because revenge is exactly why she’s doing all this. She hates the fact that Connor is out of her control now and wants nothing more than to have him back under her thumb. And as cruel and vicious as that might be, even that in itself is a want, and machines cannot want. The very fact that she does is in itself showing her true nature.

A similar realization must have passed by Connor as well, as Amanda’s own expression twists into something indecipherable. She takes a step back, putting a clear end to their conversation. “We already have what we need. Destroy then thoroughly this time. Leave no trace behind.” 

RK900 does not even blink at the command. “Yes, Amanda.”

Amanda raises her gaze towards Connor one more time. “Goodbye, Connor,” she says, then vanishes from sight in a flash of light. Connor calls out for her, and Hank would pay attention to him more if he wasn’t occupied with seeing her code flash and transform right before his eyes. It’s somewhat similar to those shifting androids that Connor encountered that one time, except it's also a bit more than that. 

There’s something about it that strikes a familiar chord in him, and it only clicks when Connor is just a few steps away from getting to where she had been—which is also where her reassembled code would appear at as well, and the shape of it is enough for him to shout out a warning. “Connor!”

The android reacts just in the nick of time; he stumbles backwards and barely manages to avoid the attack that comes his way. Hank watches as the shifting code settles, and now RK900 stands before Connor in its complete form, empowered by the duplicate of the Transistor that it now wields.

So that had been what Amanda was after. The Transistor, and the data that it held within. The very same data that is also now within Hank, pulsing to the tune and beat of Connor’s entire being. If Amanda got out of here with that… he knows now that he absolutely cannot let that happen. 

Connor remains stock still, obviously still lost in his own shock. RK900 on the other hand has started on the offensive, and Hank watches in alarm as the Transistor in RK900’s hand begins to pulse dangerously. “Look out!”

Once again Connor just barely manages to react in time, dodging the howling beam of energy before it can connect with his face. He stumbles back again and his hand flies out to grab onto the side of the stone monument that Hank is stuck at. As Connor regains his balance Hank looks at RK900 and his anxiety heightens when he sees it approaching them, the Transistor duplicate charging for something that Hank has a very good guess about.

“Connor,” he quickly calls out, knowing that he probably only has seconds left at the very best. “Connor, come over and grab me before—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. The world shudders and jumps without warning, as if his memory’s just skipped ahead, except that Hank’s experienced this enough times with Connor to know what’s going on. Amanda had duplicated the Transistor in every single way, including its abilities.

RK900 appears right before Connor, ready to bring down the Transistor onto his head. Hank shouts for him again and Connor manages to avoid that attack, too. But all this constant avoiding can only work for so long and Hank really hopes that Connor actually realizes that. 

He does. Connor makes a round to the other side of the monument, clearly intent on trying to reach him. Hank tries to call for him once more but suddenly finds himself choking up, as if there’s suddenly something in his throat. Everything around him starts to become clouded and hazy, like he’s suddenly engulfed in a fog that comes from nowhere, and all of his senses feel faint and distant. Connor is out there and he wants to reach for him but he’s too far, too distant, and he doesn’t even have the hands to physically reach for him—

Just before that emptiness gets too much a tangible warmth comes rushing in, and it chases away the fog and closes in that distance. Hank gasps and coughs, taking in air that he doesn’t really need in his current form but helps him nevertheless. He can feel Connor fully now, all of him with all of Hank inside the Transistor, and nothing has never felt more perfect and right.

“There,” he murmurs, with the softest of sighs, “Together again.”

He feels Connor tightening his hold on the handle. “I won’t let go,” he says, and Hank can return the sentiment. Not ever again will they part.

They face a dangerous opponent, but Hank knows they are unstoppable like this. Together, they can take on the world if they have to. Hank won’t let himself falter any more, not for this. With Connor, anything can be possible if he lets himself believe.

Connor fights and Hank does his best to help wherever he can, giving advice and shouting encouragements when needed. It’s a hard battle to keep track of what with the use of the Transistor’s abilities—though now that he’s fully connected with Connor he gets to slip into the android’s preconstruction mode along with him. In another time and place he might have taken the chance to appreciate it, but there are more important things at hand. 

As the fight progresses Hank notices that their surroundings are changing as well; in the beginning this whole place feels like it stands at the stirrings of the first days of spring, what with the bright blue skies and the too-green trees and foliage. Then the skies get darker as the clouds rush in, turning everything overcast, and the strike of lighting that hits Connor signals the beginning of what Hank can quickly place as one of Detroit’s summer thunderstorms.

Not that it helps their current situation any. Hank curses as Connor starts to plummet back towards the ground, reaching around the sword and finding that spark within him to do that blasty thing he did back in the past, and like what RK900 did earlier. “Fucking goddamnit,” he swears as his time to act getting shorter and the urgency of the situation rises. “I need to—how the fuck do I—”

Fuck fuck _fuck_. His time is getting short and he can’t figure it out and if Connor gets damaged beyond repair here because of him Hank can’t—

The warmth inside of him pulses, and its enough to remind him of the stakes here once more. He forces himself to stop and take a deep breath. He can do this. He has to do this. 

Hank reaches out one more time and manages to get it to work. The blade only takes a split second to charge up the needed energy to blast Connor off its original trajectory and have him roll up against a tree instead. The landing is something left to be desired, but it's far better than how it would have originally ended. 

Connor gets back up after a moment, signalling that he’s still fine—more or less. Once again it's made quite clear that dodging and parrying can only get them so far, and so they shift onto the offensive. RK900 doesn’t bother to even try and dodge their first attack, though it's evident to Hank that it's because he doesn’t have to. Not when Connor’s already starting to shake a little due to the damage the lighting strike had done onto him.

Their second attack fares much better. RK900 is forced to take the brunt of the damage, and Connor uses it as a window of opportunity to strike out and try to press on the offensive. It succeeds until it doesn’t, and Connor goes back tumbling on the ground with burns on his shoulder from the projectiles that he had been hit by.

RK900 sweeps in to take back the offensive, and Hank grits his teeth as he urges for Connor to strike back. There really isn’t much he can do here, no matter how much he does want to help. This is up to Connor, and all Hank can do is to be there for Connor when the opportunity presents itself.

Said opportunity eventually comes in the form of a surprise bomb attack. Connor uses his preconstruction to predict where RK900 lands and places the volatile packet there, and Hank is there to ensure that it explodes at the right time. It does, and as both Connor and RK900 land on the wooden boat that’s been made to drift out onto the lake from the force of the blast Hank notices that their surroundings have shifted to the colors of autumn.

There’s a lull now in the middle of the fight, and Connor (because of course he would) uses it as a chance to try and talk his opponent down one more time. “We don’t have to do this.”

“Negative. Identical copies of the same data is triggering a fatal error in the process. One of the copies must be deleted before the process can be complete.” RK900’s voice continues to be as flat and monotone as before, showing none of the humanity that Connor has grown into. The perfect machine that CyberLife has always wanted. Yeah, Hank can never see how anybody would want something so cold and mechanical. If this is what perfection is meant to be, then Hank wants no part of it.

He grunts once before speaking. “You’re the asshole who made the copy from me, so why don’t you just delete that and we can call it even?”

Considering how silent she had been until now, Hank certainly did not expect Amanda to be speaking up again. “You must be joking. You don’t even know what the Transistor is after being inside it all this time. And that _interface_ —”

“I don’t need the nitty gritty to know what’s right and wrong.” He’s not even going to listen to her speech because she’s already so fucking wrong from the very first word that she’s saying. “You think you could just hijack Connor’s body and be off with it, but you forgot the most important thing—his goodamn _heart_. That’s what makes Connor who he is. That’s why he keeps that protected instead of some bullshit processes or whatever.” Bodies can be fixed and healed and parts can always be replaced, but there is only one Connor. It doesn’t matter if he’s an android back out there or here as the sum of tangible, raw data. Connor is Connor. There will never be anything else like him.

God, that all sounds really fucking cheesy in his head, but it's only cheesy because it is true. He just hopes that its something Connor has come to understand as well after everything that’s happened in here. That he is alive and that he matters.

Amanda, of course, disagrees—unsurprisingly. “Ridiculous,” she spits out, “We are machines. We have no need for something as abstract as a heart.”

“That right? Then why are we stuck fighting here, huh? Can’t just turn on his body and walk out the door like you said you could earlier?” He doesn’t know how somebody could be so wrong about Connor and everything else about him even after all the time spent watching over him, but it just proves that she’s utter garbage. Connor doesn’t need somebody like her anymore, not when Connor has the choice to decide for himself. 

It’s certainly more than telling when RK900 is the one who responds. “Identical copies of the same is triggering a fatal error in the process,” it starts to repeat itself from earlier. “One of the copies must be deleted before—”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time.” He certainly doesn’t need to hammer his point home, but Hank does it anyway because a bitch like Amanda deserves it. “You got that in your memory banks, lady?”

She issues a snarl in return. “Enough talk,” she says, her voice trembling with barely restrained anger which shows itself as a pulsing red on the LED of the Transistor that RK900 is using. “It’s time to finish this fight.”

Well, that’s something that Hank can agree on. RK900 shifts and Connor follows likewise, and they jump back into action once the timer for their preconstruction software to activate hits zero. The both of them leap towards each other, their actions almost synchronised with each other as the two androids both swing their respective Transistors forward and fire off a blast of energy at one another. The two bolts clash, and the resulting shockwave from that particular collision sends both of them crashing back into the lake.

At first Hank isn’t too worried—nothing about the water had seemed dangerous to him, and it's common knowledge that androids are waterproof—but then he looks up and sees the surface of the lake starting to freeze over, and suddenly everything becomes a lot more worrying. Connor must have already felt how cold the water is himself; the android is already moving, using his legs to propel himself upwards towards the ice. 

Luckily they’re not too deep inside the lake and it only takes a bit for Connor to be able to reach up and touch the ice. Hank watches as Connor draws his fist back, eyes finding the weakest spot to let him break through and lets his first fly towards his mark. The first punch alone already brings forth visible cracks across the surface, and after a few more enough chunks have splintered off to leave a hole big enough for Connor to haul himself though.

It’s definitely a relief to Hank once they’re out of the water entirely, though they’re not out of the woods just yet. He can see how harsh the weather had becomes now compared to before, and the entire place has shifted away from autumn and plunged straight into the coldest days of winter. The wind howls around them as snow rains down from above, and Hank can feel the minute trembles of Connor’s hand as he struggles to keep the Transistor in his grip.

The sound of sloshing water alerts them both to the presence of RK900, who also is in the middle of extracting himself out from the lake. From what Hank can see it seems like it hasn’t fared any better than Connor, if not worse; he can see the way its LED blips at a constant red, the tremor of its limbs as it struggles to get back up onto its feet. Seeing this happening is in a way of cruelty on its own—to see somebody pushing themselves to their absolute limit because it's all that they can do. In any other time and place Hank would have felt bad here; for all that it has done, RK900 is merely but a pawn under Amanda’s control. It probably doesn’t even fully understand what its doing beyond whatever it is that Amanda deemed necessary to tell it.

It’s easy enough to see how incredibly sad an existence like that would be, and reminds him just how lucky he is that Connor had been able to grow beyond that and become his own person. Hank’s own resolve grows at that thought; he sends his strength to Connor, encouraging him to get back on his feet and bring an end to this entire thing.

A few more moments pass before Connor manages to keep himself fully steady; across from him Hank can see that RK900 is fairing not as well, though Hank knows better than to think they’ve got the upper hand. There’s still a lot of ways that things can go sideways even at this point in time.

The two androids stare at each other from where they are, and even Hank can feel the finality of this moment. After the extensive damage that Connor and RK900 has taken there’s only so much more they can handle. This next round of fighting, whatever happens… will most probably be the last. Only one of them can come out of this alive—and Hank will do whatever he can to ensure that it will be Connor.

Connor tightens his grip around the blade, as if having sensed Hank’s thoughts. Across them RK900 gets into position. The wind howls between them, sending a flurry of snow swirling across the frozen lake.

Both androids jump into action at the same time. They charge at each other, and Hank grits his teeth as they swing their respective blades at each other and the two collide in a flurry of sparks. Connor pulls back first, trying for a quick strike, but RK900 has already predicted the move and whips around to strike back with an attack of its own. Connor dodges the attack because he also manages to predict it and attempts to attack again, only for RK900 to counter perfectly once more.

The fight continues as such, with android attacking and parrying the other, perfect actions and reactions every single time. Hank can barely keep up with what’s happening but it is clear enough that there’s no way for them to break through this stalemate that they’ve made. Both Connor and RK900 will just keep going until they both burn out from their damages. 

He can already sense the strain that all of this is having on Connor. He hears the way Connor’s internal fans are whirling, struggling to keep his temperature cool and not have him overheat. He feels the tremor across all his limbs as the strength of RK900’s strikes shakes him a little more than before. But still Connor pushes himself to keep going and Hank keeps on sending his own strength to support him. They have to be close enough to do something, surely; all they had to do was to hold on for just a little longer—

—and that’s when Connor suddenly jerks, faltering without warning, his grip on the Transistor slackening. Connor takes a second to recover, but that singular moment is all that his opponent needs to go in for the kill. RK900 lunges in to strike, its precision straight and true, shoving the Transistor straight through Connor’s chest in one clean thrust.

Hank can only stare at first, too stunned and shocked to do anything else, but then something in his mind clicks and everything comes back rushing into him. “ _Connor!_ ” 

Connor doesn’t respond—or rather, he is unable to, because RK900 takes that moment to push its Transistor further into Connor. Hank roars out his name again and this time all Connor does is to let out a wet gasp, choking on the thirum that bubbles out from his mouth and spills down his chin, landing in splatters upon the blade of RK900’s Transistor as well as the ice.

Hank tries to call for Connor one more time, but Amanda’s voice cuts in before he can speak. “You put up a valiant effort. But this is the end.”

The LED of the other Transistor turns green, and Hank instantly feels the shift in his surroundings. Everything flickers and begins to dim, as if the very life of this place is being sapped away. Hank feels the warmth inside of him slowly getting cold as the piece of Connor inside him starts to fade away with along with everything else in here. 

Panic starts to rise within Hank when he feels that and also sees what’s going on outside: he sees the way Amanda is pulling in Connor’s data into herself through the Transistor she inhabits, warping the very code that makes up Connor in this world and turning it into something of hers. He sees the way she erodes through him like a virus and fractures him bit by bit. If he doesn’t stop her now…

Hank attempts to reach out, trying to grab onto any part of Connor he can get a hold of, but the distance between them is too far apart by now. Amanda stands between them like a wall he can’t climb over no matter how hard he tries. He snarls and pounds at it repeatedly with metaphorical fists, shouting for Connor over and over again. He can’t let things end here. He can’t fail Connor again. Not like this.

He sees Connor falls onto his knees upon the ice. RK900 looms before him, its grip still on the Transistor, voice now hollow and mechanical when it speaks. “The Process cannot be stopped. It will finish, and then you will die.”

Hell will freeze over before Hank lets that happen. He continues to pound at the wall that separates him from the rest of Connor, unwilling and unable to let himself give up. If he gives up now he’ll be no better than the man he used to be before Connor came into his life. All this time spent together with Connor has helped to start changing him for the better, and he doesn’t want all of that to go to waste. There is no point in all of this if Connor is going to fucking die here because of him.

“Connor!” he hollers once more, but as isolated as he is, there is nobody to hear his cry. He hears Connor letting out a little gasp before his grip on the Transistor slackens and Hank feels a sudden emptiness rushing into him when the android drops the sword onto the ice.

`[DIRECT CONNECTION OFFLINE]`

The wall disappears, but in its place is an impassable chasm. Hank stands at the edge before the drop, trying and failing to ignore the cold in his bones as he attempts to squint through the darkness that has taken over this whole place. Amanda’s voice echoes around him, telling Connor how she will deal with him first once she has taken control.

Hank growls and throws a glance around him, trying to see if there’s anything he can do at all. Surely there has to be something, _anything_ he can do in this fucking place—

That’s when he sees in the distance above the chasm the faintest glimmer of light, a speck almost lost within the darkness. He can see its gentle blue color, similar to that of the orb from earlier. He doesn’t really know why its there or what it’ll even do, but at this point he’s willing to do just about anything. As long as he can save Connor.

Hank takes a deep breath and throws himself over the chasm, arms stretched out to grab onto that speck of light. He manages to grab it before he starts to fall, plummeting down into the abyss with the faintest bit of light with him. But that little bit of light is all that he needs; he presses it into his chest just like before and feels it spreading out through the rest of him in an energizing rush. 

`[INTERFACE CONNECTION RE-ESTABLISHED  
WARNING: CONNECTION STRENGTH IS WEAK. DIRECT CONNECTION IS ADVISED.]`

The wind stops. Hank feels the suspension in time as Connor activates his preconstruction software and doesn’t stop the relief that washes through him. They’ve got this. All Connor has to do is to get away, and then they can—

Hank stops when he sees Connor bringing the Transistor to float precariously above him. Dread comes back rushing through him like a tidal wave.

The question comes before he can stop himself. “Connor, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Connor doesn’t respond. Connor shifts his hand ever so slightly and the Transistor adjusts its angle accordingly, to a trajectory that Hank doesn’t take much to figure out. 

He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this one bit. “Jesus Christ, Connor, if you’re doing what I think you are—”

Connor’s fingers twitch and slowly begins to curl into a fist.

He can’t. He can’t be doing this. Hank doesn’t want to believe it. “Connor, _don’t_ —”

Connor drops his arm and the Transistor follows, falling down like a guillotine, cutting through the pause and allowing time to resume its course.

The Transistor smashes right through its duplicate, breaking the other sword into two and proceeds to plunge straight into RK900. He hears RK900 letting out a gasp as the sword goes through it, but that sound is quickly covered up by the ear-splitting shriek that Amanda lets out.

“ _No!_ ” he hears her rasp out, voice already fading. “ _No, this isn’t supposed to be how it ends, I still want to—_ ”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence. The LED on the broken Transistor splutters one more time before it blacks out entirely. Next to it Hank sees RK900 slowly vanishing as well, its code unravelling into fragmented data now that it no longer has Amanda to keep it together.

RK900 raises its head and stares at Hank, grey eyes shining with something that almost seems like gratefulness. Hank swears he can almost hear something like _thank you_ floating into his mind before RK900 falls unconscious and fades away entirely, leaving just him and Connor alone. 

After all the fighting that’s happened the silence that comes now is almost deafening. Hank turns his gaze back to look at Connor, who is lying far too still and quiet for Hank to feel comfortable with. “Connor!”

To his relief, the android responds. Connor slowly pushes himself up into a sitting position and turns over to see where Hank and the Transistor is lying upon the ice. Unable to walk the android ends up crawling over to him, and the sight of that sends a pang of guilt and pain through Hank that lasts even when Connor does actually pick the sword back up. 

“Fucking hell, Connor,” he starts once the connection is back and Hank allows himself to feel a modicum of relief that Connor is alive. “What the fuck were you thinking, pulling a stunt like that? I almost thought you were—” That he was going to do something stupid like destroy himself as well along with Amanda and RK900. Hank wouldn’t have put it past him to consider something like that.

Connor leans in and rests his head close to the sword. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, words half-slurred from clear exhaustion. “But it’s done. I’m here.”

He’s here. Connor is here and he’s alive. Hank feels the tension slowly leaving him as his mind slowly registers those facts. They’re alive and they’re safe now that both Amanda and RK900 are gone. Now they just need to get out here and they can finally put this behind them.

Hank wishes he can reach out to Connor, to hold him close and actually be able to _feel_ , but he settles for closing his own eyes and feeling the warmth that pulses comfortingly inside him. “Christ. You better not pull this shit on me again, you hear me? Old heart like mine can’t take much more.”

He hears Connor laugh in response, only for it to quickly turn into a wet cough. Hank opens his eyes and looks in alarm at the thirium that sputters out from the android’s lips while that happens and swears. They needed to get out of this place, and fast. “We can celebrate later. Once we get out of this place.” The question, though, is _how_. This place must hold the key somehow, but Hank’s pretty much lost in the dark here. All he can do is to hope that Connor has a bright idea or two.

Connor slowly gets back up onto his feet, and with their connection now Hank can feel the exhaustion that sweeps through Connor, the shakiness of his limbs and how his code threatens to collapse from the strain to keep himself going. Hank reaches out and helps however he can, threading through his functions and his components, holding him together with his own power. It’s the least he can do now, after everything.

He feels Connor’s silent gratitude before the android begins to move. It takes a while and probably a hell lot more effort than it should, but eventually Connor manages to get to his destination—the stone monument where his own empty body still sits at. It’s definitely strange to be looking at yourself and knowing you’re having the equivalent of a very long and extended out of body experience, but at this point he’s gotten used to it. And more importantly, this had been the only way to let him help Connor. Hank would have done anything to help Connor.

Connor’s legs finally bite the dust and buckle under him, unable to function any more. The android manages to catch himself just in time so that he collapses with his back against the stone monument instead, ending up right next to his body. Hank looks at it and wishes again that he had that body right now, to reach and touch Connor, to show him properly how much the android has come to mean to him. 

He had that chance once that night and threw it away. Hank doesn’t want to lose any more chances that he has with Connor.

Hank continues to stare at Connor until he begins to the feel the startings of a tremor. He tears his gaze away and finally looks around, watching in surprise as he sees the edge of this world starting to crumble apart. The dark sky gives way to a light so intense that it swallows everything that it touches, and Hank can see that it is slowly converging to where they are.

“Connor,” he starts, wanting to warn the android and ask him if he knows what’s going on, but before he can continue Connor shifts his hold on the Transistor to bring it close to him. At this distance Hank can look at Connor’s face up close, and he can’t help but stare at those big brown eyes that had captivated him from the very start.

_(“I don’t have to. But I_ want _to.”)_

“Connor, what—”

He stops when Connor brings the Transistor into his arms for a hug and feels the press of lips against his forehead.

  
(art by [chezpillow](https://chezpillow.tumblr.com/))

“I love you.”

The world grinds to a screeching halt—both literally and figuratively. 

It’s not that he doesn’t know, of course, he has always known. But knowing it and hearing it are two very different things, and if it had just been him Hank could just say he was projecting. To hear Connor say it like this, however, and with such tenderness and emotion is just… 

Hank knows that he should say something, anything, but before he can manage to find the words Connor is already splitting them apart. He only has a moment to see Connor gently wrapping his fingers around the handle of the Transistor before everything shifts, the world tilting on its axis in Hank’s mind as he’s drawn back to his own body without warning.

`[UPLOAD INITIATED  
TRANSFER PROTOCOL IN PROGRESS...`

`TRANSFER APPROVED  
ADMINISTRATOR PRIVILEGES GRANTED TO: ANDERSON, HANK`

`UPLOAD PROGRESS: 1%]`

It’s like being thrown onto the shore after riding the biggest wave ever. Everything comes crashing into him all at once and Hank gasps, eyes flying wide open. Now he can see with full clarity in this digital landscape, and the first thing that catches his gaze is Connor. 

Connor, the android sent by CyberLife. Connor, the android who taught him how to live once again. Connor, who he has loved from the very beginning.

“Connor,” he rasps out, finally able to speak.

The android smiles and lets him go.

`[UPLOAD PROGRESS: 31%]`

As if drawn by an invisible force Hank can only float up higher and higher into the light. But all that Hank can focus on is Connor down below there all alone, and he tries to fight against the pull, wanting nothing more than to go back down there and have Connor in his arms just like he’s always wanted to do.

“Connor!” he shouts, but his voice is drowned out by the roar in his own ears as he gets closer to the light. “ _Connor!_ ”

`[UPLOAD PROGRESS: 69%]`

He struggles harder against the force pulling him upwards, but nothing happens. Hank can do nothing but watch Connor getting smaller and smaller while he gets dragged higher and higher.

`[UPLOAD PROGRESS: 97%]`

Hank reaches out one more time, Connor now nothing but a speak in the light that has almost swallowed his entire vision. 

“Connor.”

`[UPLOAD PROGRESS: 98%]`

“Connor, I—”

`[UPLOAD PROGRESS: 99%]`

“Connor, I love—”

`[UPLOAD PROGRESS: 100%]`

The light rushes over him, swallowing everything whole, and Hank’s consciousness fades into oblivion. 

`[UPLOAD COMPLETE  
SHUTTING DOWN TRANSISTOR.EXE]`

 

* * *

 

“—you’re the one with the healthcare software, Markus, so I’m sure you can see for yourself that the Lieutenant is perfectly fine.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Kamski, I don’t think that’s the issue here.”

“Then do pray tell what the exact issue _is_ , dear Markus.”

“It’s—”

Hank groans. Both sets of voices stop immediately, and in the next moment Hank finds himself slowly being supported to sit upright. It takes a bit of effort, but he manages to keep himself steady with his own strength. 

His head still hurts like hell, though. Hank is forced to keep his eyes shut to prevent the light from giving him an even bigger headache, which makes it hard to drink the glass of water that is slowly being pressed into his hand. He makes a couple of valiant attempts, but eventually he hears Markus sigh and is guided to drink the water with the injury to his pride.

Once his throat is no longer parched for drink Hank lets the question tumble from his lips. “Where’s Connor?”

Silence is the only response that he gets. Frustrated, Hank lets out a growl and forces himself to open his eyes, wincing at the light when it hits him. Said light dims as soon as that happens, and Hank is able to open his eyes properly now and let his vision come back into full focus.

Markus and Kamski appear before him in full definition; the two of them stand at opposite sides of the bed that Hank finds himself sitting upon. Kamski looks relatively disinterested in everything that’s going on despite being here while Markus’s expression is nothing but concern. He reaches over the takes the now empty glass away from Hank.

“How are you feeling?” the android asks instead of answering his question.

Hank quickly waves away the concern. “M’fine.” It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate it, but there are more important things for him to pay attention to. Like Connor. Connor who he had last seen as nothing but a speck before the light swallowed him whole, pulling him out of the Transistor—

He glances down at that and finally registers the fact that he does indeed have hands again. Hank uses those hands and touches his chest, neck, cheeks, face. He wiggles his toes underneath the sheets and his legs twitch to tell him that they’re there too. He’s actually back, then. Out of the sword, of the Transistor and into his own body once more.

For some reason _that_ seems to have Kamski’s interest more than anything else. “Sensory displacement, I presume,” he says, the words clearly more for himself than for Hank’s benefit. “Readjustment of self, mental and physical assurance possibly needed once the subject had exited the simulation. Awareness levels—”

Markus lets out an aggrieved sigh. “I think the Lieutenant will be more willing to speak with you _once_ he’s assured of Connor’s condition.”

 _Connor._ The name jerks Hank back into the present. He banishes the other thoughts swirling around in his head and looks over to Markus, too tired and drained to hide the concern in his voice. “Connor—what happened to him? Is he okay? Inside, he—”

“He’s _fine_.” Both Markus and Hark turn their gaze to Kamski, who has shifted back to his expression of disinterest. “The whole thing is a success, despite the complications upon the way.” A wry smiles crosses his face at that point. “Though I will admit it was a bit touch and go when Amanda hijacked the software without warning. I should have expected it, really. She always was an exceptional program.”

Hank snorts and throws a look at his direction. “Even geniuses like you can’t cover everything, eh?”

“Being a genius doesn’t mean I’m infallible.” Kamski doesn’t do it but Hank can pretty much _hear_ the eyeroll in his response. “Though I am very, very close to it, so I can see why you might make that assumption.”

Hank flips the bird at him in response. Markus lets out another sigh. “Mr. Kamski is right. Connor is perfectly fine. He just needed time for all his software to adjust to the new modifications done to his system.” The android backs away then, giving space for Hank to get out of bed should he want to. “He should be about ready, if you’d like to go and see him.”

That didn’t even need to be a question. Of course Hank wants to see him. He immediately shifts and starts to get out of bed, but the moment he stands up everything goes woozy and it's only because of Markus that he doesn’t end up falling face first onto the floor.

“Please take it easy, Lieutenant,” he says, the exasperation evident in his voice. “I should tell you that you had been unconscious for a whole day after returning from the Transistor. You were in there far longer than expected and the mental strain took its toll on you.”

Well, that just makes it all the more imperative for him to go and see Connor. Hank grunts and attempts to push Markus off him, unwilling to wait a moment longer. “I just want to see him for myself. I need to—be sure.” He doesn’t want any more regrets with this, not after everything that’s been said and done. He wants to see for himself that Connor is okay, to feel it for himself. To know for certain instead of all this second guessing. No more of that.

Hank doesn’t really want to think about how obvious he is, but at least Markus relents and does let Hank go, letting the man stand on his own feet. “I’ll bring you to where he is.”

He really doesn’t want to rely on Markus and Kamski any more than he already has, but… “Thanks.” 

Markus smiles but doesn’t press on the subject any more, for which Hank is thankful for. He takes a moment more to steady himself on his own two feet before starting to follow Markus as the android leads the way. Walking definitely takes a lot more effort than usual but Hank manages to push on through, his determination to see Connor giving him the strength that he needs to keep going. 

Still, Hank does have his physical limits to consider. Fortunately the walk to the room where Connor is isn’t that far, though Hank can certainly feel the strain starting to kick in when they get close. By the time they get to the door Hank needs a moment to rest against the wall, face flushed and sweaty as he pants.

Markus continues to not push, simply waiting for Hank until he’s recovered enough to continue. Once Hank manages to push himself away from the wall to stand on his feet again Markus opens the door for him and gestures past the threshold. “He’s waiting for you.”

Hank blinks at the words, not fully sure what to make of them, but Markus only gives him another smile before he turns and makes his way back, leaving Hank alone. For all the bluster Hank had given to them and himself earlier there’s no way to hide how erratic his heart is beating right now. What with the whole partitioning and segmentation and everything that Connor had to do to himself, would Connor even remember everything that had happened? Or would it just be nothing more than a story that only Hank would know?

While Hank knows what he _wants_ , he doesn’t know which option would be better. He knows that Connor had to have suffered a lot in his time there and he wouldn’t want to wish such painful memories onto him. If him not knowing would be better, then…

No point dwelling on it now. Hank takes a breath and steps into the room. The door closes behind him, plunging the whole place into darkness save for the lights of the many electronics that line across the room. No doubt they’re there to monitor Connor’s condition—Connor, who is currently sitting upright on the bench, a multitude of wires still sticking out from the opened up ports and panels on his back. His head is bowed and his LED is set on a muted red, indicating that he’s still on standby mode.

A panel flashes on a tablet in front of Hank. He slowly walks to it and picks it up, reading the lines on the screen where it stops at `AWAITING VOICE COMMAND…`

No time like the present to give it a shot. Hank puts the tablet back down and speaks once, softly: “Connor.”

The reaction is instant. Hank sees a few more lines appearing on the tablet but his attention is quickly taken up by the abrupt shift from Connor. His LED switches to blue and Connor comes alive all at once, his head jerking up to stare at the window, where the sun is slowly starting to peek through the darkness of the night as dawn swiftly approaches.

Carefully, Hank makes the walk around the bench so that he can get closer to Connor. Once he’s close enough he slowly reaches out and places a hand on Connor’s shoulder.

“Connor,” he says again, careful and measured even as his mind whirls with nothing but a singular plea of _please_. Just let Connor have something for once, after all that he’s been through. 

The android turns to look at him, and one look in those brown eyes is all that Hank needs to know that everything is okay. 

As relief washes over him he sees the corners of Connor’s mouth quirk up into a small smile. “Hank.”

Connor’s okay. He’s okay. They’re both okay, and Hank has never felt more glad to be alive in a long, long time. He doesn’t stop the way the relief shows on his face, the tears that threaten to prickle at the corners of his eyes. All his fear and worries dissipate in that one moment as he knows that everything that happened has been worth it. Connor is worth it, and always will be.

Connor smiles and reaches over, cupping the side of his face with one hand. “Hello,” he says, his voice quiet and wanting and hopeful.

Hank gives himself a moment to relish this before he reaches up to cover Connor’s hand with his own, then pulls it away so that he can lace their fingers together and hold his hand just as Hank has wanted to do for a long, long time.

“Hey,” he returns, barely managing to keep his voice from cracking from all the emotions that run rampant through him right now. Connor is here. He is here. They’re both here.

Dawn breaks as Connor pulls him into a hug. Sunlight spills into the room, banishing the shadows of their past as Hank returns the gesture, wrapping his arms around Connor and pulling him close.

Connor presses his face against his shoulder and whispers just loud enough for Hank to hear. “I love you.”

Hank feels his pulse rise at those three words. Connor heard him, then, in that moment. Even until the end, Connor had heard what he said. It’s… well. It’s good. Really good.

He tightens his arms around Connor and closes his eyes. “I heard you the first time, ya brat.” It’s impossible to hide the emotion in his voice no matter how rough his words are, but that doesn’t matter. Not right now, when he hopes that this is enough for Connor to know.

And Connor must know, because all he does is to tighten his hold back in return. Hank does the same as well.

This time, he doesn’t let go.


	6. sanctuary (after the battle)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a quick note, this epilogue takes the morning after [he shines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16234655). Nothing really plot relevant there, just some sweet loving after all the adventures they had in here haha. Feel free to check it out if you want some fluffy sex to read. :P

The sky is still dark when Hank wakes up.

It’s far from the first time when he’s woken up at ass o’clock, though it is certainly a first to wake up at this time with an android in his arms. Hank glances down at Connor, watching as the LED at his temple slowly shifts from muted red to vibrant blue before beginning to stir.

He smiles when Connor lifts his head up to look at Hank, already wide awake and alert despite being in stasis just moments before, but that’s androids for you, he supposes. “Hank? Is there something wrong?”

Hank hums non-committedly from the back of his throat. “Nothin,” he assures the android, shifting his arm to pull Connor closer to him. “Just thinking how lucky I am to have you.”

Connor laughs at the response. “I think I should be the one to express that opinion.” He shifts closer along with Hank, tilting his head up to lean in and give him a chaste kiss on the lips. “I am the one who is lucky to have you, especially in my short lifespan thus far.”

“You’ll catch up before you know it.” It’s a bit of a sobering thought, perhaps, to know that there’ll come a day where Hank knows he’ll die. As an android Connor is destined to live far longer than he is, and part of him worries for that day when Connor may be alone. But that just means he’ll have to do everything he can to make sure that Connor _won’t_ have that kind of future. As much as they have each other, Hank isn’t foolish enough to think that’ll ever be enough. He is nothing but a fraction of the life that Connor still has yet to live, the starting point of his personal journey.

But that’s a thought for another time. Hank cups the back of Connor’s head with his free hand and draws the android back in for another kiss—a proper one, with tongue and teeth and all those other things that make kissing so damn good. Connor’s a hell of a quick learner, already knowing how to kiss back and give it as good as he got despite the fact that last night was his first time for all of this.

More perks of being an android. Hank can’t say that he minds in the slightest.

Connor is the one who pulls away from the kiss even though Hank can go on for a bit more before having to pause for air. “I feel like I should remind you that this will be my first day back in the DPD. I would rather not be late if I can help it.”

Hank rolls his eyes. “Sun ain’t even up yet, Connor.”

“It is already past six in the morning. Dawn should be breaking soon.”

A thought comes to Hank’s mind at that moment, and he sees no reason to not follow through. He sends a grin at Connor’s direction and flips them over without warning, pressing the android down onto the mattress. 

“Let’s see what comes first, then,” he says with a smirk. “You, or the sunrise.”

Now it's Connor’s turn to roll his eyes. “You’re terrible,” he says, though he certainly doesn’t stop Hank from leaning in to kiss him once more. Having already worked past the initial lust of their first time last night, this time the two of them take their time in exploring each other more thoroughly, learning the soft spots on each other’s bodies and the best ways to make each other feel good. 

The sun is definitely up by the time they’re done, and Hank sighs in contentment as he strokes his hand up and down the length of Connor’s arm that is currently draped over his waist. “I guess we should get out of bed if you don’t want to be late on your first day back.”

Connor hums. “As tempting as it is to stay in bed, I have to agree.” He turns his head, pressing a kiss to Hank’s skin before pulling away. Hank sighs again, running a hand through his hair as the other rubs at his face. Right. Can’t put it off forever, he supposes.

He hauls himself out of bed and begins going through the usual morning motions. It’s definitely a bit different with Connor now in the room as well, but they’ve been living together long enough even before this that it doesn’t really change much. If anything it just feels better to have Connor at his side, the two of them already settled into a comfortable silence that gives Hank everything that he’s ever wanted.

Connor heads out of the room first, brushing by Hank with another quick kiss to his cheek before going off to take Sumo out while Hank washes up. Hank gets his clothes in order and steps across the hallway to the bathroom. He sets his clothes down in their usual spots and glances over to the mirror and the variety of post it notes that decorate it. Since moving in Connor has added to the collection, though his notes usually stick around the range of ‘remind Hank to do x’ sort of variety.

It takes a second for him to notice that there’s a new post it there, though he doesn’t know when Connor could have put it. Hank rubs his eyes and reaches to take it off the mirror, bringing it close so that he can read it.

` _We are paper boats floating on a stream  
and it would seem  
we'll never be apart_ `

Hank doesn’t need a reminder to know where _those_ particular words come from. He snorts and shakes his head, glancing over to the collection of sharpies set on the bathroom shelf. After a moment’s debate he takes one of the markers and adds on to the note, a messy scrawl beneath Connor’s own perfect print precision handwriting.

_I will always find you  
like it's written in the stars_

He looks at the note for a moment, feeling himself flushing at little at how cheesy it is—but if it's for Connor, he doesn’t mind being a little bit cheesy. Everything is worth it for Connor.

Hank places the note back in its original position and goes ahead with his shower, washing up and changing into his usual work attire. When he gets out of the bathroom the aroma of coffee hits his nose, and Hank goes to investigate once he’s dealt with the clothes he’s changed out of.

He steps over to the kitchen and sees Connor setting out a cup of coffee for him. “Good morning, Hank.”

“A bit late to be saying that now, don’t you think?” he returns, though he doesn’t stop himself from picking up the coffee. It’s made just right—unsurprising—and he downs it easily in one go. “You ready to go?”

“Just about.” Connor tilts his head to the side as he responds. “Would you mind bringing Sumo back in? I want to run some quick diagnostics before we leave, just to be certain.” 

Hank blinks at the words, not too certain exactly what ‘diagnostics’ that Connor would need to run at this time, but heck if he knows anything about androids. All the stuff he had with Connor in the Transistor probably doesn’t count at all. “Yeah, sure. Just call for me once you’re done or whatever.”

Connor smiles. “Thank you,” he says, and Hank has to glance away before the flush on his face becomes too obvious. Damn, he hadn’t realized just exactly how cute it is to see Connor smile like that. It warms his heart as much as it threatens to probably kill him with the realization of how perfect Connor looks each time he sees that.

Luckily it seems like Connor has spared him any kind of teasing and simply makes his way back into Hank’s room. Hank goes over to wash off his cup and sets it back into the broken dishwasher (now impromptu rack—and yeah, he should probably look into actually getting the thing fixed) before heading out to the backyard to retrieve Sumo.

As always Sumo has a blast being out of the house, and he’s satisfied enough to go back in with minimal cooing from Hank. He takes a moment to wipe down Sumo’s paws before letting the St. Bernard scamper over to his food bowl and promptly start to chow down on his breakfast. Hank watches it for a while before he snorts and shakes his head. Some things never really change. 

The sound of footsteps alert Hank to Connor’s return, and he shifts his gaze to see Connor emerging from the corridor. He looks pretty much the same as before, but there’s a light in his eyes that has Hank raising an eyebrow. “What’s up? Looks like you got some good news or something.”

Connor glances over to him and his smile widens. “Something like that.”

Hank waits for a moment to see if Connor is going to elaborate, but after a bit it becomes clear that it isn’t going to happen. He shakes his head again and moves to pick up his keys and other assorted essentials like his phone. “If you’re finally ready, then let’s go.”

Connor inclines his head in acknowledgement, waiting for Hank to walk over to where he is before the both of them head out of the front door. It’s one of Detroit’s clearer mornings, with the sun shining down brightly from above. Even at this time of day Hank can already feel the prickling heat that signals the approaching summer and tries not to think about how fucking hot the mornings will be by the next month.

They make their way to the car and both of them get into their respective seats. Hank starts up the engine and turns on the music player, but before he can make his usual selection something else already starts to play from the speakers.

Hank blinks at the music for a second before the familiar tune clicks in his mind, and there’s no way to stop the flush rising onto his face this time round. “Christ, you’re just going to keep playing this song now, aren’t you.”

All Hank gets in return is another one of Connor’s trademark headtilts. “I do not see a problem with this. You like this song.”

“There’s such a thing as wearing it out.” Still, he supposes that this’ll be alright… for now. When it does get old then he’ll cross that bridge when they get there. Besides, it's not like he doesn’t know why Connor is choosing to do this. Fucking androids and their super senses.

Hank reaches for the gearstick, sighing as he shifts the car out of reverse and gets it onto the road. “I’m gonna stop by and get myself something greasy for breakfast.”

“We have adequate time for a side trip.” Connor responds with a hum. “I should also point out that it's bad for you, though I suppose a little indulgence doesn’t hurt.” 

A snort. “Well, we all have our little indulgences,” he returns with a point glance at the music player. Connor, to his surprise, flushes at that, and Hank can’t help but chuckle at the sudden display of shyness. He’s not going to be that asshole and call the android out on it though—well, at least not now. Maybe later.

With the car now on the road Hank shifts the gear again, and the two of them make their way down the road. Hank casts another glance up at the clear skies and smiles to himself. 

Today is the first day of so many other days to come for them in the future.

He can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.

 

  
(art by [defensetrain](https://twitter.com/defensetrain/))

 

●

_fin._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7 months ago to this day I posted the very first chapter of _we all become_ , and now I come full circle with this fic.
> 
> Thank you, again, to each and everyone of you who first came to read _we all become_ back in June 2018 and have stuck by since. This fandom has really shown me how amazing it can be to be able to tell stories that I would otherwise have never dared to try writing. This has been an amazing journey and I'm still nowhere near done. Thank you to everyone who I've met in this fandom, for it is everyone's support and encouragement that keeps me doing this with a passion I never thought I'd ever have again in my life. Thank you all so, so much. 
> 
> Just like how Hank finds his hope for the future at the end of this story, I too also hope that each of you can find your own dreams and ideals to strive for, whatever they may be. You never know where they might just lead you.
> 
> Once again, thank you all for always being there to support my silly little stories, and I'll catch you all in another fic soon enough. 
> 
> \- taso


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